If Everything Goes to Plan
by Dobby's Excitability
Summary: Harry discovers something odd at Number Seven Privet Drive. For Severus Snape, it's an opportunity of a lifetime.
1. Number Seven Privet Drive

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

Chapter 1 – Number Seven Privet Drive 

The mid-July summer evening was unusually warm and stuffy.  It was unpleasantly humid; the soupy air had the same consistency as when one was stuffed in a small-overheated room with too many people for too long leaving the recycled, heavy, air stale, lifeless, and putrid.  Even the slight breeze that stirred the hydrangea bush Harry lay under offered little comfort.  The young man turned to his side, pressing his face closer to the cool earth in hopes of gaining some relief from the semi-damp ground.  He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the evening news—a nightly tradition he began last summer and continued this year.  The hydrangea provided a double sanctuary for him as it not only provided cover and shade, but it was a private place where he could think, consider, and mentally punish himself for the death of Sirius Black.

When he returned to the Dursleys the prior month, Mad Eye Moody's threat did seem to purchase Harry some space and the Dursleys, more or less, left him alone in his private place although they very well knew he was there.  In the mornings Aunt Petunia always had a list of chores for him (none for his Cousin Dudley, of course).  He was almost accepting of the tasks, as they were dull and mundane and kept his mind from wandering to far more unpleasant thoughts.  More than once he even asked for more work, to which his astonished aunt replied that she had none.  Uncle Vernon, normally not one to pass up an opportunity to insult or throttle him, left him alone—acknowledging the boy with an occasional grunt or glare through his narrowed, piggy eyes.

Ron and Hermione wrote faithfully everyday (letters delivered through Muggle post, thankfully), although Harry couldn't help but notice that the content of the letters were strikingly similar, as if they were together when they were written.  He would also receive an owl from Remus every few days, filling him in as much as security would allow on the goings on at Grimmauld Place.  Hermione, he understood, was spending most of her time at the Order headquarters with a few days here and there with her family.  He never did understand why her parents allowed her to spend so much time away from them (school aside).  Had he had real parents, he scowled, he would not be so eager to traipse off and leave them behind.

_"Doesn't she care?"_ Harry thought to himself, opening his eyes.  _"If I had parents… If I had Sirius…"_

Peeling back a few branches he looked through to Privet Drive, bending his head to scan the street up and down.  A few neighbors worked in their yards, hurrying to clean up before the dusk and to squeeze out a few more gallons of water on their lawns when no one was looking.  Everything on Privet Drive was neat and tidy; each house exactly as the other down to the lights, bushes, and the criss-cross patterns of the mowed lawns.  If conformity were the path to righteousness, Privet Drive would rival the Vatican.

Every house, except for Number Seven.

For years a shriveled old lady who, Harry swore, lived her entire life parked in front of her curtains had occupied Number Seven.  Every odd event, strange occurrence and sure enough Harry would turn to see her steely eyes peering through the blinds, her face scrunched in such a way that, although he could not see her mouth, he knew she was scowling.  Occasionally he would see her outside, but he did not see her this year— she didn't live in Number Seven anymore.

In February, or so Harry had found out overhearing Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon talk, the woman (Mrs. Nesbett, he later learned—all those years he never did know her name) put her house up for sale and moved to some London suburb to be closer to her daughter.  Less than a month later it was sold—to a single woman in her mid-thirties although Harry rarely saw her.  Like most on Privet Drive she worked and kept to herself and, as far as Harry could tell, was just as bland and boring as the next person.

_"At least,"_ Harry mused, _"She doesn't seem to interested in me."_

As he went to lean back to listen to the news some more, a flash of red caught his eye.  It looked like; at least for the split second Harry noticed it, a tiny, bright red cap in the bushes at Number Seven.  He pulled the branches apart more and leaned forward.  Again, he saw a glimpse of red—but just for a second.  He got up from the hydrangea, brushing the loose dirt from his oversized trousers and stepped out of the flower patch and headed across the street.  Reaching the sidewalk in front of Number Seven, he studied the bushes again but could not spot the red, although he did notice from a few telltale small mounds of dirt that the bushes adorning it did have a significant mole problem.  

Hearing a loud screech, he pulled up his head to see a large Eagle Owl circling overhead.  "Oh, bloody night," Harry sighed, "Not in broad daylight…"  Harry enjoyed getting owl posts from his friends, but always took some wrath from Uncle Vernon in the process.  Although the skies were getting darker as dusk approached, it certainly was enough light that the remaining neighbors could see the owl, the scroll it carried, and the highly unusual sight of it giving something to Harry.  He was about ready to retreat to the house when the owl circled over Number Seven, then flew past Harry, missive still attached, as if the bird made a wrong delivery or was lost.  

"Is there something wrong?" a cold voice inquired, making Harry jump.  

"Err… no…" Harry replied and turned to face the person who addressed him.  "I thought I saw something in the bushes, an odd animal," Harry clarified.  

"I see," the woman replied.  She was a thin woman with a severe appearance, 'librarian-like' Harry thought for a second as she, in no small way, reminded him of Madame Pince the Hogwart's librarian, although he knew that it was quite unlikely they were at all related.  The woman was about 5 or 6 inches shorter than Harry, who was now just slightly shy of six feet tall, with mousy brown hair pulled back into a bun.  She wore a well-tailored grey woman's suit with a plain-buttoned white silk blouse.  The woman was not particularly attractive with a long nose that was quite too big for her face and gave the illusion that her pale, concrete grey eyes were slightly crossed. 

"An owl too," Harry said nervously.  "Must have been hunting, although I've never seen an owl like that live in this area…"

"Owls do strange things," the woman replied quickly.  "I will check the bushes in the morning."  With a quick nod, but not even an introduction, the woman made her way to her door and entered inside.

~***~

"So you did at least get her name?" Aunt Petunia asked when Harry entered the house.  He stopped in his tracks, stunned, as this was perhaps the first time Aunt Petunia talked to him without yelling, accusing him of something, or giving him a chore.  Seeing the boy's confounded face, she probed, "Certainly you are not that dense?"

"I didn't get a name," Harry said truthfully.  "I thought I saw something…" he shook his head.  "Then the owl…"

"Quit talking nonsense boy," Uncle Vernon said behind his paper.

"She put a really tall fence up around her back yard," Dudley chimed in, immediately getting his Mother's attention.  "Danny Watkins lives in back of her.  He says the fence is so high you can't see in."

"Nonsense," Uncle Vernon folded his paper, but continued reading. "The ordinances are quite strict here and no one could ever get approval for such a thing.  Besides," he looked over the paper and pointed at the living room window, "You could see it from here if that were the case.  You can't, therefore Danny is making things up.  Again.  You are way to clever of a lad to believe everything you hear.  Pretty soon, you'll claim that Danny said one of the freaks from Harry's world moved in…"

"Well, whatever," Aunt Petunia cut in and then walked over to the window, carefully peeling back the blinds so she could look over.  "Never see her around…"

"What do you care, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon asked in an agitated voice.  "Half the neighbors on the street have been here for 10 years or more and you'd be hard pressed to know what they looked like, let alone their names!"

"In this day and age, Vernon," Petunia replied, "It is wise to know who lives near you.  And, for that matter, I have a list of all the names of the neighbors, what they do, and what time they leave in the morning."  Stomping over to the mantle of their fake fireplace, she opened a small box and produced a piece of paper.  Unfolding it, she presented a tidy list.  "The Matthews, Number Eleven Privet Drive, have two children.  Mr. Matthews leaves at 7:20 am while Mrs. Matthews leaves at 7:15 am with the children.  It looks like one of the children is too young for the primary school, so I conclude that she drops her off at the nursery giving her time to drop her elder son off at the primary school later…"

"Perhaps you cannot be too careful," Vernon replied.  Although he was as nosey about the neighbors as the next person, he didn't venture into it as a full-time hobby.  "So, I suppose you require the newest neighbor's name for your collection?"  Not waiting for her to answer, Vernon grabbed the remote and turned on the tele, turning up the volume slightly.

"It's not a collection," Petunia corrected despite the fact Vernon had already tuned her out.  "It's for our safety.  Think of the property values should someone unsavory move in.  I feel that this is an important way to protect our investment."  Walking back to the window, she peered out through the now dimly lit street.  The sky was dusk, but not yet dark enough for the street lights to come on.  "Judging from how she keeps her bushes…"

"I think she's a professional," Harry said.  "Works in London, I'd guess from the clothes and all.  Very conservative."

"Banking perhaps?" Petunia said with a slight hint of approval, forgetting for the moment she was having a conversation with the boy.

Harry shrugged his shoulders indicating he didn't know.  

"That damn Figg woman again," Petunia said while grinding teeth, as she lowered the blinds slightly so the squib on the street could not see she was being spied upon.  "To think she is a… a… freak.  I should have never trusted her…"  

Harry walked over to the window and cautiously peered outside.  Arabella Figg was out for her nightly walk.  She always made it a point to pass by the house at least once a day.  Although Harry tried to understand that the routine was for his protection, he was starting to understand the Dursley's point that it was an invasion of their privacy.  He felt like he was constantly being watched and that feeling was about as uncomfortable as being vulnerable.

The squib had stopped in front of his house, but was looking at Number Seven.  Not directly at Number Seven, but the sky above it.  A lone owl, a different one than from a few minutes earlier as far as Harry could tell, circled a few times without landing and then flew off—like the last, as if it were lost.  

"One of those bloody owls is looking for you," Petunia sighed.  "Stupid things…"

"They're quite bright," Harry said in retort.  "If it had something for me, it would have delivered it.  I think it's just hunting…"

"Hmm…" Petunia said.  She and Harry kept on looking out the window, ignoring that Dudley now began to whine.

"But it's the conclusion of a three-part," Dudley began.

"Shh…" Vernon warned his son.  

"I'm going out to talk with her," Harry said.

"Do tell her to keep off our property, will you?" Aunt Petunia said with distain.  "And another thing…"

"Oh boy!" Vernon and Dudley were laughing hysterically.  "Lucius, Rodolphus, Rabastan… what did a circus escape?"

"What was that?" Harry rushed over and grabbed the remote, turning the volume up louder so he could hear the announcement over their laughter.  

"Authorities have been told that these criminals are extremely dangerous.  You are not to approach or attempt to apprehend them…" the announcer said in a serious voice that hid an underlying panic as a series of photos flashed in the view box behind him.

"Walden Macnair," Vernon pointed to a still photo of a burley man with a black mustache.  "That's the only normal name in the group."

"That's because they've escaped from Azkaban!  All of them are wizards and witches!" Harry shouted.  "They set a trap for me earlier this year… they were caught but since the Dementors left Azkaban…"

"The Dementors are roaming free?" Petunia shouted in fear and then clasped her hand over her mouth.  It seemed that Vernon was distracted by the announcement and did not notice her outburst.

"Don't tell me they're coming here, boy!" Vernon roared.  "Petunia!  Promise or not… this will be the SECOND time that he's led danger right to our door…"

"But I'm safe here!" Harry protested.  "Besides, I don't think they know I'm here… unless some in the Ministry working for them…"

"I don't give a rat's arse about YOU boy!" Vernon yelled back.  "That thing nearly took Dudley last year.  Sure, boy, YOU'RE safe.  What about US?"  He shook his meaty finger in Harry's face.  "Dumbledork doesn't give a care about…" His tirade was cut short as a huge explosion rocked the house.  "Oh NO!" he yelled, "THEY'RE HERE!  PETUNIA, DUDLEY, TO THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS… NOW!"  

Everyone rushed to the cupboard and opened the door.  When Harry was younger it was his room… his life.  He recalled the quarters being cramped, but staring into the small space, he began to realize just how much he had grown over the past few years.  "Not YOU boy," Vernon growled pushing him to the wall, "Remember, you're the SAFE one here."  

Harry looked on, nervously watching the door (why, as any semi-adept wizard could apparate next to him if he chose) and the sight of Dudley trying to squeeze his way into the cupboard, like a piggified Winnie the Pooh squeezing out of Rabbit's hole.  After a few minutes the boy was hopelessly stuck and the amusing antics of watching his Aunt and Uncle trying to free his cousin made him forget that they were supposedly under attack.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry cleared his throat.  "If the escaped wizards were here… shook the house… they would have come in already and killed us.  I'd think…"  Harry tried to smile as he looked upon his Uncle whose red face beaded with sweat from the physical exertion of trying to extract his equally large son from the small stair cupboard.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you!" Vernon screamed, causing a large vein on the temple of his forehead to pulsate.  "Causing a panic… being the center of attention…"  As he continued his tirade, an owl flew in through the open kitchen window and into the hall, dropping a letter at Harry's feet.  

Scooping it up, Harry quickly opened it.  "Maybe some instructions from Professor Dumbledore," he offered in an attempt to console his hyper Uncle.  Unfolding the letter, he read.  "Underage Magic?  But I didn't do it…"

Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter and read it.  Looking at the boy, the then referred to the letter, stabbing it with his index finger, "See here, several dates and times.  They were not just referring to tonight.  Levitation Charms, Thermagentic Potion Brewing… Looks like they've been very patient.  Another inquiry and hearing, but at least they're not sending a pack of freaks to confiscate your wand.  Not like that's entirely a bad idea in one form."

"Thermagentic Potion Brewing?" Harry balked.  "That's NEWT level work.  I don't have a clue how to do that!  And, look," Harry pointed to one specific entry.  "We were at Aunt Marge's house for dinner that night."

"You were lucky she even allowed you into her home!" Vernon added but then realized the boy had a point.  As he considered the note, and Harry's single piece of (in his opinion) tenuous evidence, another owl flew in.  "PETUNIA, WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE BLOODY KITCHEN WINDOW ALREADY!" he shouted as he tried to bat the creature from his house.

Opening the newest letter, Harry read:

Harry –

I thought that you might have heard this through the Muggle media, but Malfoy, Lestranges and the other Death Eaters escaped tonight.  To top it off, we're getting reports that you've been doing various pieces of magic—including some fairly hefty spells—throughout the summer.  Given what happened last year, it's apparent the Ministry is giving you some latitude, but this has crossed the line.  Dumbledore is at the Ministry right now trying to smooth things out.  In the meanwhile, put away the wand—please Harry.  

Remus

Harry ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and paper, quickly scribbling a note.  Running past the Dursleys in the hall, he stopped.  "Uncle Vernon, may I have the key to Hedwig's cage?"

"And just why should I do that?" Uncle Vernon asked, his vein throbbing more than ever as his face transitioned into a plum shade of purple.

"So I can send a message saying that I didn't do anything.  It might be nice," Harry added with a terse smile, "if you concurred.  Otherwise you will have a houseful of 'freaks' in less than a hour."  Holding out the letter and pen, he looked on as his Uncle grabbed it and wrote a few lines of his own before shoving the paper back at him.  

Reaching into his pocket, Vernon grabbed a set of keys, carefully selecting a small silver one that hung on its own ring.  "The minute the bird returns it gets locked back up, understand?" the large man screamed rhetorically at Harry as the boy ran up the stairs.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Thanks for reading.  Second chapter to be up soon.  Please leave feedback!  If you wish, comments may also be sent to my email (listed on the profile).  Thanks and I hope you enjoyed.


	2. Cup of Sugar

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

Sorry the last chapter had a few errors.  I've corrected those and replaced the chapter with an .html file instead of a .doc (seemed that a .doc file loses a lot of the punctuation, changing commas into periods and whatnot).

I hope you enjoy.  

Chapter 2 – Cup of Sugar 

"This must be a picture of Regulus," Hermione said softly as she handed the framed photo to Ron.  "It looks like a seventh year Prefect photo."  She read the inscribed bronze label affixed on the bottom of the frame, "Center:  Bartholomew Couch – Head Boy, Ravenclaw; Deanna DeVille – Head Girl, Gryffindor.  Left to Right:  Regulus Black, Slytherin; Ruedella Lestrange, Slytherin; Nina Umbridge, Ravenclaw; Siaban Green, Gryffindor; Lukas Bones, Hufflepuff; Cassiopia Diggory, Hufflepuff."

They studied the photo for a few minutes before putting it to the side.  As they began to sort through another box, they heard someone clearing their throat and turned to the sound.

"That is something Harry should be doing, not you," Professor McGonagall sat down in an old worn chair next to them.  "You know that little things now very much bother him and if I were in his shoes, I'd be quite cross."

"We'll put them all back just like they were," Hermione offered.  "There's not much to do and, well, some of these photos are interesting.  We were hoping to find something old with Sirius or even James Potter."

"Aside from Sirius' old portrait on the second floor landing, I highly doubt you will find anything of Sirius' here.  I am even surprised that you found a few old photos of Regulus."  The older witch levitated the photo that Hermione and Ron just looked at over into her lap.  "Barty Couch, Azkaban and now dead; Deanne DeVille, became an Auror and died during training.  Moody knows the details.  Regulus Black, dead; Ruedella Lestrange…"

"Azkaban?" Ron finished.

"No," McGonagall sighed.  "Missing, presumed dead."

"Dead then," Ron confirmed.  "What about the rest?  Can I be hopeful about Umbridge?"

"A second cousin," McGonagall said in a stern voice.  "Wonderfully sweet girl and quite bright.  I see where the talent and personality went with that family.  She's quite alive and well.  Thank goodness.  Now, Siaban Green… He's Seamus Finnegan's uncle.  I lost track of that boy, I probably should ask Seamus when the school year begins.  Lukas Bones, dead, Cassiopia Diggory, dead…"

"Voldemort?" Hermione inquired about the last.

"Broom accident," McGonagall corrected.  "Quite a decent Quidditch player she was, good hope for going professional.  She was trying out for Puddlemere United when the charms failed on her broom.  The fall wouldn't have killed her, I suppose, but when she tried to regain control, a bludger hit her squarely in the head."  Hermione and Ron grimaced.

Taking the framed photo from McGonagall, Hermione packed it carefully in the box.  As she and Ron were tidying up the living room, stacking old newspapers, photo albums and other items to the side, Remus Lupin rushed into the door.

"Hello Remus!" Hermione and Ron called.  They watched as Remus gave them a quick nod and ran into the kitchen.  Curious, they quickly finished up and then followed him.

~***~

"I know that Harry's a bit depressed and going through a rebellious stage," Remus explained to Moody who was enjoying an evening tea.  "However, this really could get him expelled.  He's been warned more than enough.  And the list…" Remus produced a list of nearly two dozen infractions.

"Let me see," Moody took the list and studied it.  "Dumbledore has his own list but took it with him to the Ministry.  Hmmm… Apparating, Thermagentic Potions, Muggle wards… there's three right there that I'd bet a sack of Galleons he would have no clue how to do.  Even Hermione, who is eavesdropping behind the door, might have a bit of difficulty with these."

"Sorry," Hermione and Ron stepped into the large eat-in kitchen.  "What's going on with Harry?  Not magic again…"

"I'm afraid so," Remus scowled.  "Although Moody does bring up some interesting points?  Well…" Remus smiled at the large white owl that just flew into the kitchen, "What do we have here?"  He took the letter from Hedwig's foot while Moody fed it some of his biscuit.  Unfolding the letter, he read it out loud:

Remus –

I don't know what the Ministry is talking about.  I swear I haven't done a spot of magic, intended or otherwise, all summer.  

Harry

Below it in barely legible scrawl was:

The boy is telling the truth.  He was even out of the house during one of the events.  Your Ministry is full of incompetent freaky loons!

            Vernon Dursley

"If it weren't for the fact that the lunatics escaped the Asylum this afternoon, I'd probably chalk this up to a good Ministry bungle," Moody read the offered note and then set it on the large wooden table.  "However, I was never fond of coincidences, being that I was nearly killed by a few…"

~***~

The evening was too hot to sleep, and Harry, given that the evening's events disturbed him so, paced around his room, hoping that fatigue would get the better of him.  Deciding that the downstairs would be cooler (and grateful that the Dursleys had this year abandoned their tradition of locking him in his room), he cautiously opened the door and proceeded quietly down the steps, careful to not wake his aunt or uncle.  Reaching the kitchen, he poured a small glass of milk and then wandered into the living room.  The bright half-moon pushed through the sides of the shade, illuminating the room enough so that Harry could navigate without turning on a light.  Reaching the window, Harry sat on the sill, and carefully pried open the shade.  It was 2 am and the street was deserted, save for the neighbor at Number Seven who was digging something up from her front lawn.

Harry opened the shade a little more; knowing that the darkness of the room he was in would conceal him.  He studied the woman, who was busy digging a small hole.  When she was through, she reached in and pulled out a small silver object, about the size of a golf ball and then reached in her pocket to retrieve another, placing it in the earth and the covering it with soil.  After that, she reached behind her and grabbed a small bag, shaking out the contents into her hand and then spreading it on the ground as if they were seeds. 

"What are you DOING!" a voice hollered behind Harry, causing him to jump.

"Shh!" Harry put his finger to his lips, "The neighbor is planting something…"

"It's 2 am you fool," Vernon said nastily.  "No one plants at 2 am…"

"She dug a hole, pulled out some silver thing and replaced it with another," Harry tried to explain.

"Nor does anyone replace their property stakes at this time either!" Vernon argued.

"Can't sleep either?" Harry asked, knowing that the former conversation was going nowhere.

Vernon settled into his chair with a thud.  "Too bloody hot.  Had we not been stuck raising you, we could have used the money for central air…"

"Why didn't you put me in an orphanage or foster care?" Harry inquired.  The tone of his voice was calm, indicating he wasn't trying to be contrary but was, in fact, curious.

"Your Aunt would have nothing of it," Vernon replied.  "Lord knows I tried more than once to talk her into it."

"Selfish bastard!" a voice echoed.  Mad Eye Moody and Remus Lupin had disapperated in the center of the kitchen.

"Don't you freaks know about breaking and entering?" Vernon asked.  "How about you leave and come back another time… like NEVER!"  His yell echoed through the house.  A second later, he could hear Petunia and Dudley coming down the stairs.  "See what you've done, you've woken my family!  And it's Saturday, we normally enjoy sleeping in on Saturday."

"Dursley, will you shut up?  If we're not careful, your family will be sleeping soundly all right… dead that is!" Moody hissed.  Turning his attention to Harry, he asked, "Now what's going on here?"

"I don't know," Harry replied.  "About 10 pm we heard a huge explosion that rocked the house.  We took shelter but when we realized it wasn't anything magical…"

"Does this have to do with those escapee freaks?" Vernon demanded.

"Potentially," Remus said.  "Go on Harry."

"After I sent Remus the note, we went outside.  All the neighbors were out too, looking around.  Since there wasn't any damage, we came back in."

"One of the neighbors," Dursley pointed his finger towards the living room window, "Said that it was probably an experimental military aircraft flying overhead.  We had something similar about ten years ago."

"Of course, but you know better than the rest of the Muggles, don't you?" Moody replied sharply.  "We're here because of the report.  Dumbledore told the Ministry that Harry wasn't capable of such magic and your note, which I immediately sent to him, help smooth over a few things…"

"I was hoping that the note would explain enough to keep the likes of you out of my home," Vernon grunted, "Otherwise why would I care?"

"Nonetheless, the question remains… who did the magic?" Remus continued for his colleague.  "We know that Arabella Figg lives nearby, but she is completely incapable of such feats.  She can do some potions, but Thermagentic potions do require a considerable bit of magic and one has to be licensed in order to do it.  In addition, the set-up required is rather elaborate.  One simply doesn't do this type of potion in a standard 3 gallon cauldron."

"Aside from you, Harry, there is only one other wizard registered in this area," Moody pulled out a parchment.  "A Mark Evans who will be starting Hogwarts this year."

"The little runt I've beaten up is a Freak?" Dudley asked with disgust.  "Had I known that, I would have hit him harder!  Freak…"  Dudley scowled as he pummeled his fist, over and over, into his other open hand.

"And he's hardly capable of a basic levitation charm.  In fact, I doubt his parents have even purchased his wand yet."  Moody explained, eyeing up Dudley in distain.  His stare was sufficient to stop the oversized young man from pounding his fists.

"I saw something odd today," Harry said now deciding that it might be important.  "Two owls circled the neighbors house and then flew off.  At first I though they were for me, but the birds… two Eagle Owls… well they looked confused and lost.  I also though I saw gnomes in the bushes too.  And just a few minutes ago, the lady was digging up something… looked like a silver golf ball and replaced it with another."

"What is a golf ball?" Moody asked.

"A small ball, about this big around," Harry made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.  He trailed off as the two wizards eyes grew bigger and they exchanged apprehensive glares.

Moody reaching into his worn cloak and pulled out a lady's vanity mirror.  Looking into it, he said, "Albus, are you there?"  He tilted the mirror so Harry could see Dumbledore's concerned face.

"Did they round them up yet?" Moody asked.

"They were able to bring in the Malfoys, Macnairs, Rookwoods, and Notts and a few others into protective custody and questioning although I am not happy with detaining innocent…"

"Albus you know that they will try to establish contact with their families for supplies and resources.  The less support they receive early on increases the odds we will catch them.  Besides, as if Narcissa Malfoy is innocent.  Spare me." Moody snorted.  "However, it seems we have a little problem here.  As we concluded if it wasn't Harry doing the magic, then it had to be someone else.  The intelligence was pretty spotty and they could not give an exact location, so they just hung it on Harry's record.  Anyhow, Harry thinks he saw a gnome next door and a few Eagle Owls circling, but not stopping at a neighbor's house."

"The house was just purchased in early March," Petunia interrupted.  "Never met the woman.  Had been meaning to, but every time I went over, I remembered something I forgot to do…"

"Muggle and Squib wards.  Must have known Arabella is here.  I also suspect they have planted magical dampening pods around the home.  That explains the odd intelligence; one must have been going bad and the fact the owls didn't land.  Whoever is living there is trying to keep a very low profile." Moody added, taking into account Petunia's information.

"Eagle Owls are favored by Death Eaters," Remus added quickly.  "Do you think that the escapees are trying to contact whoever is there."

"Trying, but apparently the person does not wish to be contacted," Dumbledore replied.  Pursing his lips and scratching his beard, the old wizard thought for a few moments.  "The first thing we need to do is find out who this person is and if she is, indeed, a witch."

~***~

"Good morning, ma'am," Dudley Dursley said in a cheerful voice as the neighbor opened the door.  It was a fine Saturday morning, about 9 am.  "Mum was in the process of baking a cake and noticed that she was short on sugar.  She was hoping, if you didn't mind, if you could spare some?  She also wanted to say 'welcome to the neighborhood'… err… and that she has been amiss in introducing herself."  Dudley then held up a large measuring cup, moving it back and forth between his pudgy fingers.

"Your name?" the woman in the silver and green housecoat asked suspiciously.

"Dudley Dursley," the boy said animatedly.  "My parents are Vernon and Petunia Dursley.  We live right across the street.  Number Four."  The woman studied him for a second and then panned her eyes past the boy over to the spot she dug last night.  Biting her lip and frowning, she took the boy's cup.  

"I'll be back," the woman said with a sigh, closing the door.  In a few seconds she returned, handing the full cup to him, brimming with pristine white sugar.  "For a cake?"

"Yes, my cousin's birthday," Dudley said.  "My cousin Harry."

"Harry Dursley?" the woman asked, as if she was slightly curious and staring at Number Four.

"No, it's my Mum's sister's son.  His name is Potter.  Harry Potter," Dudley offered.  He watched as the color drained from the woman's face.  She quickly backed away and slammed the door shut.  Shrugging, Dudley turned and made his way across the street.

~***~

"Here's your sugar, Mumsey," Tonks said when she entered the kitchen, morphing back from Dudley's huge frame to her normal lithe, petite self.  She smiled at Dudley who was sitting at the table, eyeing up his cantaloupe half with disgust.  

"Well?  Moody asked, looking at the half-full cup.  "Let me guess, you spilled half of it on the way…"

"I think she fell for it, that she believed her anti-Muggle wards were down.  She kept on looking at the spot Harry pointed out this morning.  There are gnome holes, but I didn't see any gnomes, although there was some white powder on a few of the holes.  I think she might have taken Harry's clue and poisoned them in the middle of the night.  She kept close to the door, so I couldn't see inside." Tonks gave her report, ignoring Moody's other comment.

"What did she look like?" Moody asked.  He pointed to a large album of wizard mug shots.  "Could you pick her out?"

"Yeah, I could," Tonks said confidently.  She took out her wand and tapped the album.  "A witch, about five feet six inches, mousy brown hair, pale grey eyes… I'd say she was in her mid thirties, between the ages of 33 and 36."  The book flipped open and the page glowed as the charm enchanted the book rearranged the photos like a magical database.  In a minute the page displayed a variety of photos, all witches who were snarling and trying to hex Tonks as she looked at them.

"I don't see her," Tonks replied after about 15 minutes of studying the pictures.  "Maybe she was one who was never captured?  Someone we don't know is a Death Eater."

"Perhaps," Moody took out his mirror and called Arthur Weasley's name.  Waiting for a few seconds for the man's image to appear, he asked, "Do you have a complete list?"

"All families of the fugitive are accounted for except for a few.  Vladimir Dolohov has not been located, although the Russian Aurors think they know where to find him.  We should hear shortly.  Ruedella Lestrange has been missing for several months now… Back in early March she went on sabbatical from her position in Gringotts.  They have not heard hide or hair from her since and they don't expect to hear from her until next March when she is scheduled to return to work," Arthur Weasley reported.

"Remus, you were watching Tonks, did you recognize the witch?  She's about your age, perhaps a bit younger."  Moody asked.

"No," Remus answered, "but there were a fair number in Ravenclaw and Slytherin whom I didn't know.  Especially if they were younger than I.  Plus a number of years have gone by…"

"I could have this witch pulled in for failing to register.  The problem is that would cause a commotion and we'd have to have a squad of Aurors tap off all the neighbors' memories.  The false report in the newspapers and media would be enough to tip off the fugitives and they would come here; assuming someone in the Ministry doesn't leak it first.  No, it's too dangerous.  Even if we take Harry with us, they might find the Dursleys."

Vernon sat at his dining table, his fists clenched.  He had put up with the tomfoolery this long simply because of the potential danger to his wife, son and himself.  However, he had enough of the cat and mouse game and was going to demand immediate action.  "Why don't you pop into her house, like the lot of you do here, and blast her with your wands… or whatever it is you do?"

"Because, we don't know if she's alone," Moody replied.  "Right now we have the advantage.  She probably doesn't know Harry's here and is unaware that we're onto her.  First thing, is to figure out who she is."  He held up the morning London Times that sported the picture of the fugitives on the front page.  "She's probably quite aware that they're free again… if she wasn't contacted directly already."

"There are no floo hookups in the area, even Arabella doesn't have one.  I checked before I came here this morning," Tonks added.  She walked over to Harry who had picked up the paper and was studying the pictures.  "I did, however, mention something to her innocently to see her reaction."

"What was that, Tonks?" Moody said trying hard not to sound irritated.

"I said that she was baking a cake," Tonks motioned towards Petunia, "a birthday cake for my cousin… Harry Potter.  She went white as a sheet and then slammed the door.  I somehow think that she didn't intend to…"

"You did what!" Moody leapt up from his chair with such force that it fell backwards onto the tile floor.  Remus looked equally agitated.  "She's probably sent a thousand owls by now…"

"You're jumping to conclusions.  It's apparent, at least to me, she's hiding," Tonks said.

"That's great!  Let's compare your less than two years as an full-fledged Auror to my seventy!  I think, girlie, that I may have a wee bit more experience.  Next time, let's just paint a large target on Harry's chest!" Moody ranted, snorted, and spat as his magical eye spun around randomly in its socket.

"Wait…" Harry laid down the paper and pointed to two of the photos.  "She kind of looks like these guys, in a way.  Same eyes.  Like Malfoy's in color, but the shape is the same—deeper.  Same nose too.  Strange, but she also reminds me a lot of Madame Pince."

"Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange," Moody pronounced, looking over at the faces to which Harry pointed.  "Their younger sister is the one who is missing."  He looked up to Harry and then sternly to Tonks.  "I'm afraid, Harry, that everyone here could be in very great danger.  We must be careful and try to apprehend her without any of the neighbors finding out."


	3. Saturday Brunch

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 3 – Saturday Brunch 

"Oh, it's just a small affair, nothing even remotely formal," Petunia explained to the mysterious neighbor woman.  "Since you were so kind regarding the sugar and we did want to meet you we felt that there was no better time than the present.  I do hope you didn't eat breakfast?"

"The morning news culled my appetite, although I was not much of a breakfast person to being with.  Petunia, correct?" the woman inquired.

"Yes, Petunia Dursley," Petunia smiled.  "And I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?"

"I didn't offer it," the woman replied.  Sensing immediately she was out of bounds, she added, "Rudy… err… Rudy Setangler."

"Well, Rudy," Petunia offered, "Should I plan on you attending, say in about an hour or so.  I know it is short notice, but… when opportunity knocks…"

"Yes, of course," Rudy replied nervously.  "May I bring anything?"

"Oh, such short notice, heavens no," Petunia replied.  "Just yourself."  She smiled and then backed away, turning to leave and heard the door shut behind her.

~***~

"Moody, I refuse to morph into Dursley here," Tonks said as she entered the living room after making the invitation.  "She said she'd be over, but we'll have to wait and see."

"Now what?" Petunia asked.  "Are you going to leave soon?"

"Do you want us to leave now that we invited her over here?" Moody asked with a sneer.  "Even YOU are not that dense.  Don't worry, we'll take cover and when the time is right…"

"Wham!" Harry said with relish, clapping his hands together as if he were swatting a fly.

~***~

As Petunia busied herself in the kitchen trying to prepare something decent from the little food she had (as Saturday was her grocery shopping day and she steadfastly refused the Freaks' help in conjuring up something) she nearly jumped as the doorbell rang.  Vernon rose from his seat, his hard reddened face softened a little as he tried to take a few calming breaths.  "It'll be okay, Petunia," Vernon said.  "Hopefully this will end the nonsense quickly and we can get on with our day."

He walked purposefully to the door and opened it.  There stood a well-groomed woman clad in a tailored light grey blouse and tan pleated trousers.  She wore leather sandals that matched her belt and a little bit of jewelry, including a silver necklace with a small charm bearing a snake relief.  She was carrying a fine porcelain dish with a cover.  Vernon forced a smile, perhaps the woman noticed as she regarded him strangely.  "Rudy Setangler, I presume?" he offered a large meaty hand, "Always good to meet new neighbors."

"Thank you," she replied, shaking his hand quickly using her free arm and then letting go.  Seeing that he stepped to the side, she walked in and paused while he closed the door behind him.  "I see that the homes on the drive share the same floorplan," she said distractedly.  

"They are large homes," he replied quickly and escorted her into the kitchen on their way to the dining table.  Stopping along the way, he called over to Petunia, who was busy cooking, trying to consume herself in the task so she wouldn't allow the fear to overcome her.  "Petunia, our guest has arrived."  Petunia turned and greeted the woman, then quickly returned to her preparations.

Ushering him to a nearby seat, Vernon pulled up a chair next to her, glancing occasionally over to the fireplace.  "So, tell us about yourself."  Seeing her balk, he then offered, again shooting a quick glare at the fireplace, "I am Vernon and, of course, my wife.  I work for a company that makes and sells drills while my wife does a fantastic job of taking care of the house.  My son, Dudley, goes to boarding school during the school year, Smeltings… you might have heard of it."  He forced a smile as the witch nodded 'no'.  "Oh a very fine school, I am an alumnus of it myself."

"You have a nephew?" Rudy asked.  "Where are the boys?" she asked, "Are they not joining us?"

"It was such a fine day.  A little cooler and less humid than the weather we've been having.  I think they went to the park for a few hours.  I'm sure they'll be back soon.  You know boys and food, you can't keep enough in the house.  Did you come from a large family?" Petunia asked, shocked that she actually drew up enough courage.

"Not really, just my elder brothers and myself.  The eldest is six years older than I, while the second is two.  It seemed, though, that we had a constant houseful of their friends…"

"Oh, I know," Petunia said with a squeak. "Dudley is always bringing his friends here.  The lot of them eat me out of house and home."  She wiped her hands and then turned the pans on the stove to simmer before proceeding over.  "Ah I see that you've brought something.  How kind of you."

"I was able to whip it up quickly," Rudy answered.  "Blood pudding.  An old friend of my brother's loved it.  It's his mother's old family recipe.  I brought just a small bit, as it was all I had, besides it is quite filling for Brunch."

Looking at the fireplace and then over to Rudy, Petunia asked, "So, what do you do?  I noticed you leave early in the morning and don't return until late?"

"Quite inquisitive, aren't you?" Rudy said coldly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Petunia feigned ignorance, "It so happens that our schedules coincide… I just assumed you worked in London and the commute was long."

"I see," Rudy then offered a small smile, but continued to eye the two up suspiciously.  "I am on Sabbatical now, although I am doing a bit of private consulting to make ends meet.  I was in banking."

"Ah, an interesting area," Vernon noted, trying to pull along the conversation.  "I'm trying to steer Dudley into that area.  Mergers and Acquisitions—have to be a real cut-throat to go into that."

"I was in Business Development," Rudy answered, her eyes glittering strangely, as if the conversation amused her.  "Finding new resources, exploration, that sort of thing.  Not a desk job."

"Oh, I see," Petunia said, "Now you do private consulting.  I assume along the same lines?"

"Not exactly," Rudy answered, "I render a few services here and there.  It would be difficult to explain exactly, one of those things about the industry, I suppose."  She folded her hands in her lap, "So, your nephew, Harry, where does he go to school?  Smeltings as well?"  She smiled coyly as she made her inquiry.

"No, another school," Vernon said.  "The boy's a bit unstable.  It specializes in unruly and incorrigible adolescents."

"Hmm," she smiled, "I knew more than my share of those types myself.  But I am quite interested in talking with him.  Quite a quick study on owls…" As she ended her sentence, a loud crack of cloth grabbed her attention and she turned in her chair to face the fireplace.  Three wizards stood there, their wands drawn as an invisibility cloak lay in a puddle at their feet.

"All right, Lestrange, the ruse is up," Moody snarled.  "Taking a page from big-brother Rodolphus, are we?  Sneaking into an unsuspecting Muggle neighborhood, creeping in nice and close to Harry, biding your time.  So, I assume you know where they are?"

"You don't understand!" Rudy rose from her chair and began to back away slowly, her eyes panning around to find some sort of escape.

"Don't bother to apparate away from here, unless you want to be splinched," Remus warned, "we put wards up…"

"I had no idea… until yesterday," Rudy looked scared, "I know they've been trying to reach me, but I've been blocking all owls… you don't understand.  I'm here because I don't want them to find me.  This is a mistake…"

"You didn't register!" Moody bellowed, "You know the rules Ruedella!  You have not been acting like an innocent witch…"

Taking a deep breath, Ruedella disappeared with a soft 'pop' and reappeared on the other side of the room.  Pulling out her wand, she yelled '_Stupify'_ and a blast of yellow light ripped over Remus, Tonks, and Moody, rendering them unconscious.  Keeping her wand up, she made her way over to the trio and carefully picked up theirs off the floor.  "You," she pointed at Vernon, "I hate to be a rude guest… excuse the pun," she said with a half-smile, still concentrating on the task at hand.  "Sit!" She motioned her wand at the chair.  After he sat, she walked a few steps over, her back to the kitchen and pointed her wand at him.  Ropes flew from the end, binding the man to the chair.

"That should hold you until they wake up," she said.  Depositing the wands on the table, she went to turn, but then fell to the ground as she felt a heavy object smash into her head.

Vernon looked at his wife, who bore a triumphant expression on her face and a large iron frying pan in her hands.  "Bloody Freaks," she said as she prodded her foot into the unconscious woman's side.  "They aren't very competent, are they?"

~***~

"I really don't remember her that well.  A few prefect meetings but that's about it.  Albus, it was a very long time, that's why I didn't recognize her," Remus explained.  "Regardless, I don't think it was wise bringing her here."

"She is currently unconscious and I am summoning medical aid as we speak.  She is well bound and secured, for the moment I do not see her as a threat." Dumbledore replied, watching the woman who lay on the old battered couch in 12 Grimmauld Place.  "When her injuries are attended to, I will allow Mad Eye to take her in custody."

"Are you mad?" Remus asked, but was hushed.

"Kreacher?" Dumbledore called out.  Not hearing a reply immediately, but seeing the dull grey of a small head peering around a nearby corner, he called again, "Kreacher?"

The aged house elf popped it head out.  Seeing Dumbledore motion with his long, ancient fingers, the elf snorted and then hobbled over, looking at the wizard in disdain as it shuffled along.  It was a terrible time for a house Elf, when their master dies and the heir has yet to be announced.  "What!?" the thing asked.

"I would appreciate it if you could fetch clean warm water and some additional bandages.  Molly Weasley will be here shortly with some healing potions and to change the dressings on her wounds."

"And why should I help?" the elf said with disgust.  Approaching the witch, he studied her.  "I know her.  You've harmed her… she was a friend of Master Regulus.  Fine family…"

"She was caught trying to harm Harry Potter," Dumbledore explained.  "She was injured during her capture and we wish to provide assistance before she is taken to Ministry headquarters."

"She is a friend of purebloods?" Kreacher asked.  "I will help her then."

"Thank you Kreacher," Dumbledore said with a smile.  "Remus, come with me, there's much to discuss."

~***~

"Ruedella… psstt… Ruedella!  Wake up!"  Narcissa Malfoy forced her face in between the bars.  An hour or two before the guards had dragged in the witch, apparently unconscious, muttering to themselves how she managed to find Harry Potter and try to kill him.  Narcissa was never sure about Ruedella's loyalties and the fact that immediately after school the witch joined Gringotts as a curse breaker and traveled the world, separating herself from the Dark Lord's circle—assuming, Narcissa considered—if the girl was ever offered membership, made her question this even more.  However, the information from the guards made it appear that Ruedella was indeed a snake in the grass.

"Who is that, Mum?" Draco asked, getting up from the stone bench.

"Ruedella Lestrange," she replied quickly.  "Didn't you hear?"

"I didn't hear her name," Draco admitted.  "She found Harry Potter's location?  I thought that some secret-keeper would have it…"

"Dumbledore is clever and seeing that a secret-keeper didn't keep him safe the last time, he probably counted on hiding the boy under our very noses."  Narcissa turned back to the bars.  "Ruedella… Rue…"

"What is it you bloody Muggle!" Ruedella lashed out in a stupor.

"I am not a Muggle!" Narcissa yelped out.  "I will assume that your head injury is keeping you…"

"What!" Ruedella bolted up, and then moaned in pain from the sudden movement.  "Oh gods…" she held her head.  "Where am I?"

"The holding facility in the Ministry," Narcissa explained.  "Draco and I are being held in 'protective custody' given that Lucius recently escaped.  Our solicitor should have us out soon.  As for you… it appears that you will be on your way to Azkaban.  But fear not, as the Dementors no longer guard the prison and the Dark Lord will arrange escape for those who have been loyal.  I will tell him myself of your deeds, Ruedella."  Narcissa beamed at the younger witch who was still groaning and holding her head.

As she watched Ruedella collect herself, Narcissa backed away and took a seat next to her son.  "We will be out soon, Draco," she consoled.  "They did this because they were afraid that your Father and the other would contact us.  However, Draco, others are working to help them—allies who work right under their noses."  She ran her fingers through her son's hair, absently noticing how much like a man he had become and how much he looked like his father.  She sighed and began to get up again to check on Ruedella, slowing her pace as she heard the heavy iron doors unlock.

~***~

"I don't know, Professor Snape," the guard remarked as he and the tall Potions Master walked into the holding area.  "She was apprehended in their living room and she doesn't strike me as one to join Muggles for tea."

"She is a witch on sabbatical who took up residence in a Muggle area.  I cannot understand her choice, but that it itself is not illegal.  She had sent in her registration to the Ministry, but as we found out, the paperwork got lost in that bureaucratic nightmare.  Her return owl-receipt was found in her home when they searched it.  The Lestrange family solicitor is handling the details, I suggest you ask him.  I, in the meanwhile, am a family friend and her Grandfather requested that I arrange the bond and look after her given that he and her Grandmother reside in France."

The guard simply shrugged and proceeded to open Ruedella's cell.  "Ok, little princess, prince charming has come to your rescue."

"Professor Snape!" a voice called from the cell behind them.  The Potions Master turned to see his favorite student.

"I see that the Ministry has been busy locking up the innocent," Severus growled.  "I trust, Mister Malfoy, that arrangements have been made." He nodded at Narcissa, "I did see your solicitor just a few moments before.  It should not be long."

"You're taking her?" Narcissa asked, curious.  Lucius always thought highly of the man, although he came from a questionable family and station.  He had, however, managed to see to Slytherin welfare and was an important set of eyes for Lucius when needed.  The amazing part, Lucius sometimes wondered to her, was how Snape managed to work so efficiently right under Dumbledore's nose.

"She has no home," Severus walked over to the woman, "At least until the Ministry is through with its' rather trite investigation.  And, as even you can see, Narcissa, she is injured.  I think it is important that we take care of our own, do you not?"

"Of course, Severus," Narcissa agreed.

The guard entered the cell and helped Ruedella to her feet.  "Up you go," he chided and then guided her over to the door.

"I can walk myself, you fool!" Ruedella slapped away the guard's helping hand.  She glanced at Severus and then over to Narcissa who was proudly looking on, as if she were some martyr.  Looking Severus up and down, she pulled back her hand and slapped him across the face.  "Now that we are even," Ruedella pronounced with a huff, "You can take me home."

"Now that's hardly a welcome for a wizard who posted your bail," the guard noted, folding his arms.

"He will be repaid, he knows this and otherwise would not have come," Ruedella replied with a snarl.  "He knows what the slap is for."

"Now that we are 'even,'" Snape said in a low dangerous drawl as he rubbed his face, her hand mark a brilliant red across his sallow face, "I suggest that we go home."  Noticing her improper attire, he derided, "I do say Ruedella, that your taste in clothing had always been absurd, but I am at a loss at to whether I should wrap you in a cloak or throw candy at you."

"She does look stupid," Draco began, but was immediately shut up by his mother.

"Oh, Mister Malfoy, she more than looks it, I assure you," Snape commented in a silky drawl.  "Her entire first year she carried around a plain sandstone rock, convinced it was a bezoar, and dropped it in her goblet at every meal."

"Given that you slipped something into Slatero Quirrell's drink and caused him to stutter forevermore, who could blame me!" she spat back.  "Then my fourth year you tried to poison me at the Yule Ball."

"I simply tried to knock you out," he replied sharply.  "You would not shut up the entire evening.  Constant blathering about some article in Witch Weekly and the most charming smile award."

"Then why take me as your date?" Ruedella slammed back.

"Because your brother put a wand to my head!" Severus replied with a terse sneer.  "For some reason he did enjoyed making my life a living hell and forcing you on me was some perverse way to torture me."

"Forcing ME on YOU!" Ruedella backed into the cell and then slammed the door shut.  "He was the one always telling me what a fine bloke you were.  For your information, Snivellus, Rabastan threatened that if I didn't go to the Yule Ball with you that he'd kill my kneazel!"

"Don't you DARE call me SNIVELLUS!" Snape roared.  Commanding the guard he snapped, "Open the cell door!"

"I'm staying here… Sniv-el-lus…" Ruedella pronounced with exaggeration, smiling as his black eyes flared with anger.

"YOU ARE COMING WITH ME!" Severus yelled.  Calming down somewhat, he added, "I will carry you over my shoulder if I must."

"I will kick and scream," she protested.

"Do not be that dense, Ruedella, lest someone start questioning if there is some Flint in your family line.  I would body bind you first, of course.  Unless you wish to come with me quietly, like the fine witch your upbringing suggests."  Severus leaned against the cell door, his arms crossed.  Nodding to the guard, he said again, "Let her out."

Ruedella slowly stepped forward.  "You have my wand?"

"Yes, it was the only personal effect, save for your jewelry.  They are safe on me and I will return them when we get to my house."

"I see," she walked up to him, reaching out her fingers and running them down his chest.  "I should be more grateful for your assistance," she said coquettishly.  Carefully tracing her fingers down the black material of his vest, she felt a long thin piece of wood in his left vest inner pocket.  "Is that a wand in your vest, or you just happy to see me?"  Her fingers darted quickly under the material, but were not quick enough.  Severus' cold fingers grasped her hand and then pulled her closer.

"I said that I would return your wand… later…" He positioned his head down, so his mouth was even with her ear and said softly, but loud enough so the Malfoys could overhear if they tried (and they were indeed trying desperately to absorb every word), "I have more interesting ways for you to display your gratitude and may I suggest that they do involve getting out of these silly Muggle clothes?"

"Ohh-kkaayyy!" The guard slammed the cell door closed and patted Severus on the arm.  "Enough of the Slytherin foreplay already.  Dinner's coming up and I won't wish to ruin my appetite.  You can use the floo outside of the main office."  He motioned for the two to follow him out.  Turning to the Malfoys who were looking on, he muttered, "Lovely couple…" and then made a fake spitting sound.

After the iron door closed, Draco turned to his mother, completely stunned by the event he had just witnessed.

"When we get home I will make sure that Rabastan and Rodolphus know where she's at," Narcissa said softly, cautious that no one could overhear.

"I'm sure that she will be…" Draco began but was cut-off by his mother's raised hand.

"Professor Snape is a fine wizard and one whom is appropriate to head Slytherin House.  I am please the Dumbledore has not tried to replace him.  However, as you very well know, some families are better than others.  Snape is a fine colleague, but not of the level that he could be considering an affair with a member of a family like the Lestranges.  I am shocked that Rabastan even encouraged such a thing.  Youthful ignorance, I suppose.  However, I fear that Severus will work this to his advantage…"

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Don't forget to leave your comments.  If you want to be notified of new chapters, be sure to select the Author notification from the drop down menu below.  This will save you lots of time and, for registered users, you will receive an email announcement when I put a new chapter up.


	4. The Most Indigent And Obscure House Of S...

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 4 - The Most Indigent And Obscure House Of Snape 

They arrived in the living room through the floo, as she did not want to take any chances with apparating given her head injury.  She quickly brushed off the little bit of soot, surprised that she wasn't caked head to toe in black ash.  The cottage was larger than she remembered, with a large living area that connected to a small eating nook.  To her left was the entryway into the kitchen and to the right was a hall that, if she remembered correctly, led to two bedrooms and a common bathroom.  

Ruedella had been here a few times before when she was a young child.  Her father often consulted with Deaville Snape, Severus' mother, for various herbs and potions ingredients.  The back garden, she recalled, consisted of a small greenhouse and several large plots of land where Deaville grew the most exotic plants and herbs, the likes of which few could obtain even in Diagon Alley itself.  Deaville was a noted Herbologist, from that she made her living, however despite her reputation she barely made enough to keep what she had.  It wasn't, as Ruedella understood, that the woman made little, it was that the debt she inherited was enormous.

The estate, so it once was at one time, now consisted of a few acres and a modest cottage as the land over the years had been sold off to pay various debts.  The Snapes, as she had heard from both her brother Rodolphus and her father, were quite fond of gambling and drink.  Over time a proud wealthy family whose treasures once rivaled that of the Malfoy's themselves dwindled over the centuries as they were pawned or auctioned.  The main house had been sold years ago, long before Deaville was born, to a Muggle family.  The last major parcel of acreage sold a few years before Severus' birth to pay for Deaville's father's legal fees.  

Aside from gambling, loose witches, and drink, the Snapes were notorious for their interest in the Dark Arts.  A hobby, Ruedella's father once warned, _"Was a passion that could take one's soul, but ensured it took one's possessions first."_  Her family was hardly innocent of dabbling in the Dark Arts themselves, as the various trinkets that lay around the Lestrange estates would prove (and any doubt remaining was remedied by her brothers' incarceration); yet they were greedy enough to keep their wits about them.  Her father rather liked Severus, she now recalled, and he even once noted that given Severus' straight-laced, icy demeanor and attention to work, that the boy might be the one to break the generations of ill repute.  She thought, idly, that her father would be pleased that he became a Master at Hogwarts at such a young age and a Head of House to boot.  It wasn't a lucrative position, but one that did command a deal of respect in the community and did set himself up nicely to become Headmaster one day.

"It has been a long time," Ruedella said, looking around.  The walls had a few ancient portraits, minus the frames (she quickly concluded that the frames were probably sold long ago) and a smaller number of photographs.  A few pieces of ad-hoc art hung here and there, but most of the room was covered with bookshelves groaning with various tomes or stuffed with scrolls.  The furniture was old, but in good shape, and overall the cottage was quite tidy and fit.

She took a peek out of one of the windows.  The grounds seemed to be well maintained, with a few giant trees providing a cool shade during the hot summer day.  It was out back, in the yard near the gardens, where years ago she watched Severus try to mount a tired and worn second-hand broom he received for his seventh birthday.  She remembered her five year old self laughing, her voice carried in the crisp late fall air, as the boy desperately tried to mount the bucking broom (unbeknownst to him Rabastan was hiding behind a tree, using his training wand to hex it).  Her laughter egged Severus on further until he eventually broke down in tears from the frustration.

Severus was always a proud person, she remembered, although frequently brought to tears when he was younger.  By the time she entered Hogwarts, he had established a considerable reputation as both a Dark Arts expert and crybaby, which she always thought was an unusual combination of traits for which to be known.  As he matured, he managed to control himself more, although he was quick to anger.  By the end of his sixth year, however, his transformation to the aloof, distant wizard standing with her had begun; a transformation she knew born from pain and desperation.  

They had, during their years together at Hogwarts, spent some time together, although most of it was forced by Rabastan who found the two of them—skinny, gangly, introverted and studious—as an interesting potential pair.  She did not mind Severus' company so much, as he never really snapped at her or was otherwise ill-mannered.  He would simply sit by her and brood silently, watching the others pass by.  From time to time he would share a few curses and other thoughts, eventually giving her some private lessons here and there if he felt the exercise would help strengthen his own skills.  It had been eighteen years since she last saw him at a Halloween party in 1978.  She had finished her studies at Hogwarts the prior June and had begun work at Gringotts soon after.  During the party they exchanged a few pleasantries and began to talk, slowly situating themselves further away from the main party.  Eventually too much Fire Whiskey unearthed a combination of youthful hormones and mutual attraction; their 'conversation' took them to the rose bushes where they were discovered, partially undressed, by Lucifer Malfoy and her brother Rodolphus, who was less than amused.

In some strange way, she was not surprised to see Severus today.

"Not a mansion as you are used to," Severus said quickly, taking off his hat and hanging it on a nearby hook.  "If you wish to change, you may go into the second bedroom.  I located some clothes of my mother's that may be suitable until we can convince the Ministry to release some of your possessions.  If not, I assume you can perform a simple resizing charm?"

"I can if I have my wand," Ruedella replied.  She watched as Severus emptied his pocket, producing a small cardboard box that contained her jewelry and then her wand, laying it carefully on the table.  "Could it be, Severus, that after all these years you have actually become trusting?"

"No," Severus looked at her, his expression blank.  "However, given your situation, I don't see you rushing off any time soon."

"But you posted bail for me," Ruedella questioned.

"No I posted bond and your possessions, not mine, are the collateral," Severus pointed out.  "You should look more carefully at the documents you signed.  I'll assume, of course, that you were not thinking straight.  I believe it is fair tell you this now, before your devious mind concocts up a plan that you will later regret.  While you are getting changed into a… normal… witch, I will prepare dinner.  Unless, of course, your palate is so used to House Elf prepared cuisine that what I have to offer would not be suitable?"

"I'd imagine that you would be a passable cook," Ruedella offered civilly.  "You forget, Severus, that I have not had House Elf cooking—save for an occasional Gringotts' banquet—for some time.  Had I know that this would have happened, I would have saved the blood pudding sausage for tonight—your mother's recipe, I believe."

Severus considered the comments and then nodded towards the bedrooms for her to change.

The hall was dimly lit, so Ruedella took it upon herself to light a few of the sconces.  She proceeded to the second door, Severus' old room, and turned the black knob.  The door creaked open and she stepped inside, quickly issuing a charm to light any candles within.  The room was small, with a single sized bed in the one corner.  The ceiling, she noted, was covered with scorch marks from a time, she assumed, when Severus was alone and bored in his youth.  A set of drawers and a chair sat on the other side of the room, while an old armoire flanked the bed.  On the chair was a neat stack of clothes.  Ruedella sifted through the lot, picking out a black witch's dress that she felt was close in size; she laid it on the bed.  Taking the remaining clothes, she piled them next to the dress and transformed the extras into a pair of black high-heeled boots; more suitable footwear than the sandals she currently wore.  

After changing, she folded her Muggle clothes and set them on top of the dresser.  She was concerned about what to do about nightclothes, as she was unsure about Severus' earlier innuendo.  He was never one to joke and although it did relieve her that her own possessions were put up as collateral for her bond as it did limit the leverage he had over her.  What concerned her most, however, was that she didn't know what other things-- behind the scenes-- he did to get her free.  One thing she did know was that she never did register her location with the Ministry.  She had no idea how a return owl receipt could be found in her home.

Returning back to the living area, she saw Severus setting the table.  "Here, let me…" she said and then paused when Severus scowled.

"You are a guest," he reminded her.

"A guest that you were not planning," she retorted.  "If you feel comfortable with me assisting while you attend to the cooking, then I am willing to help."  Although she had not seen Severus in nearly seventeen years, their time together long ago did give her some insight, albeit to a very small degree, into his psychology.

"I do not permit people to use or impose on me," he said quickly and left.

_"Well, at least I'm welcome,"_ Ruedella surmised to herself from his comment.  Taking a seat, she waited patiently as Severus brought out a small, very rare beef roast, a pot of seasoned boiled potatoes and a bowl of tossed salad with dressing.  

Sitting down, he summoned over a bottle of wine from a nearby small curio and opened it, pouring each of them a half glass before setting the bottle down in the center of the table.  The two ate in silence, Severus mainly picking at his food, nibbling a few bites here and there, but mainly moving it around on his plate.

"You don't need to do that," she said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I remember that you really never ate much.  You don't need to move things around on your plate to make it look like you are.  It's okay, I know… err… Rabastan mentioned something when we were in school…"

"I see," Severus said, dropping his fork to his plate.  "Yet you still came here?"

"You were quite insistent.  Why did you get me out?" Ruedella asked, dodging his question.

"As I said in the jail, I heard what happened and that you were injured," Severus replied.  "I contacted your Grandfather and he entrusted me to see that you were free and had a roof over your head."

"I didn't know you knew my Grandfather…"

"Lucius Malfoy introduced us a few years ago," Severus explained.  "Your mother and Lucius' father were siblings, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," Ruedella confirmed.  She and her brothers inherited the Malfoy grey eyes from Lucretia Malfoy, their mother, while their brown moppy hair (which she constantly kept under control by pulling it back) was definitely a Lestrange trait.  She pushed her roast beef around the plate a few times and then inquired, "You mentioned that the Aurors searched my house and found the return receipt for my registration owl.  Do you know what else they seized and when it will be returned to me?"

"You solicitor will more than likely floo in the morning," Severus began to answer.  "However, since you did bring up the receipt, you do realize that you never had one…"

"Really?" Ruedella replied.  "It was in my house, the Aurors seized it…"

"You are entirely too bright of a witch to act like such a dunderhead.  I arranged to have this item forged and it was I who was able to apparate into your house and placed the receipt in your drawer.  After liberating, of course, a few other items that I suspect you didn't want the Aurors to discover."

"How could you gain access to my house?  Although the external protections were failing, I did have a number of traps and wards on the entryways.  Besides, the Aurors always place their own wards around a property to assure that it won't be disturbed…"

"Albus Dumbledore," he replied quickly.  "He felt that you were not all that you seemed.  He believes that you are innocent and really were not after Harry Potter, that the whole event was a fluke, an unfortunate coincidence.  You could have kept watch on the boy when he went to the park, abducting him there, you could have just as easily used a curse instead of '_stupefy'_ on the group guarding the Muggle house.  That, and a number of other abnormalities that just did not fit, in his opinion, with that of a Death Eater.  As such, he arranged to have me do a quick, unofficial, inspection.  I reported back to him that I saw nothing out of the unusual.  No shrunken elf heads, no poisoned snuff boxes or that enchanted muggle device…"

"I only enchanted the toaster to feed itself the bread and then butter and jam it when it was done," Ruedella replied.  "Unlike a certain lip-biting goblet that SOMEONE in this room created in hopes that Sirius Black would pick it up…"

"This discussion, I believe, is about you," Severus said coolly.  "On the other hand, from an entirely different perspective, it does appear that you were, indeed, after Potter waiting for the right time, testing the special spell that supposedly protected him.  A good curse breaker can break other spells as well, with enough time, patience, and motivation."  Severus drummed his long fingers against the table.  "Your situation, I find to be most compelling, one, that if you manage, can put you in a tremendously advantageous position.  Provided, of course, you receive the proper mentoring to manipulate it properly."

"And I suppose you are the mentor you have in mind?" Ruedella asked, frowning as Severus nodded his head.  "So, if I understand this plainly—the evidence, prior to your intervention, pointed to me being in league with the Dark Lord.  With the evidence, it simply points to me making some unfortunate decisions.  Without it, I will be put in Azkaban for the rest of my life.  However, what keeps me from Azkaban could get me killed by others.  Without you telling the right people, discreetly, about your intervention, it will appear that I was avoiding my brothers and am unfaithful to the Dark Lord."  She paused for a second, "What do you believe?"

"What I believe is not relevant.  What is relevant is the opportunity this presents," Severus replied. 

"However, my brothers and cousin will be rather suspicious about the receipt and the fact their owls came back," Ruedella replied.  "One could point out that the wards would be necessary so that they didn't accidentally blow my cover to create an unusual situation in a Muggle neighborhood.  However, I do not know if something as simple as a forged return receipt will convince people for long."

"Hardly," Severus snorted indigently, "We will tell them what I did.  That I felt the receipt was necessary to solidify Dumbledore's suspicion.  The Headmaster is now quite concerned for you, in fact, he even laid some of the groundwork himself."

"How's that?"

"The Order of Phoenix headquarters is located in the former Black estate.  A Fidelius charm prevents me from disclosing the location, mind you.  The House Elf, Kreacher, saw you gagged and bound on the floor and overheard Dumbledore telling another member of the Order that you were caught in Harry Potter's home, presumably to do some harm.  While a witch was attending to your wounds, I investigated your house.  In the meanwhile, the House Elf, who is bound to the home, but has no Master, ran gleefully to your cousin's estate and reported what he overheard to Narcissa—well, at least to Narcissa' own elf as Narcissa was otherwise occupied-- who undoubtedly has told Narcissa the second she and Draco arrived home, which I would presume would be by now."

"Dumbledore used a House Elf?" Ruedella exclaimed.  "So, in other words, you saw the situation, thought out the long term implications and then presented some evidence which would solidify my story for either side.  I suppose now I should ask what you want to get from this?"

"There are a few intangible benefits which I expect to reap, however, those do not directly aid me towards my long term goals," Severus began before Ruedella interrupted.

"If I can obtain the location of our estate from Rodolphus I could obtain the key to our vaults.  I am certain we can negotiate a suitable payment for your assistance…"

"Over the last few years, Ruedella, I started to notice something.  Do you know what that was?" Severus disregarded her payment offer and slowly stood up and waked over to a small glass curio cabinet that held many fine, and presumably cursed, objects.

"What is that, Severus?"

"That the old pureblood families are dying out, or will be after this generation.  Quirrell, Couch, Diggory, Rosier, Wilkes, McKinnon, Prewett… Black…" At the last Severus snorted and then the smallest wisp of a smile crossed his face.

"For someone in support of the Purebloods," Ruedella added, "the Dark Lord is certainly killing enough off.  There's a Muggle saying, 'Be careful where you point your gun.'"

"Why did your brother make the estate unplottable?" Severus inquired.  "You could not return."

"It was, I thought, a maneuver to keep my Grandfather from seizing the estate should anything happen to Rodolphus or Rabastan.  Rodolphus felt that I was too young at the time to keep my Grandfather and my uncle at bay."

"Rodolphus was correct, you would have been eaten alive by Thuban and Lucifer Malfoy.  You were young, quite naïve if I recall, and unmarried.  With your father dead, you had no name or house to protect your interests.  Rodolphus was quite wise.  He knew you were employed and that a curse breaker made a fine living…"

"I think we need to get back to what you want," Ruedella said firmly.

"Do you see these items?" Severus pointed to a few knickknacks, including an ornate silver music box, an Order of Merlin, First Class and a large gold ring bearing a familiar looking family crest.  "Many are that of my mother's family.  Items that I purchased back over the years.  My cousin, Perloin Borgin would floo when something that he knew once belong to us crossed his path.  Never one to give a discount, but I was the first one he called.  The other items are ones that were being discarded, but I felt I was entitled to own them."  He turned on heel to the woman, "What I want, Ruedella, is to regain the status and prestige of the Snape name.  My mother saw to the debts and, when she was killed, at least I did not have to face that burden.  What I make at Hogwarts is passable, but will not in a thousand years return the estate to the glory it once was and provide the means to purchase the lands and the treasures back."

"You could make far more privately," Ruedella countered.

"Legitimate organizations, Ministry included, are hesitant to hire me given that I admitted to being a Death Eater.  Even if I actively sought private contracts, which I do accept some from time to time, the vast majority would more than likely involve Dark Arts and less than reputable contacts.  Regardless, what I require takes far more income that what I can make alone.  As for presenting opportunities, I have found the Hogwarts position to be far more lucrative."

"I daresay, Severus, you have completely lost me.  Except that you want money.  I have money and if I can get Rodolphus…"

Severus reached forward and grabbed Ruedella's chin.  "I do not wish to receive a direct payment from your family, Ruedella.  What I will demand, when you brothers decide to pay us a visit, is something a bit more permanent than an exchange of gold, but they will see the logic and how their own interests are served.  The first stage is being executed as we speak.  A few weeks ago, I began a number of legal proceedings.  In fact, I was at a private meeting at the Judge's home this morning working out a few final details," Severus said with a stiff, smarmy smile.  "Although I did not get everything I wanted, I daresay that I received more than I thought remotely possible even a year ago—a victory that will work to fulfill many agendas and prerequisites.  Now, sit and finish your dinner and in due time you shall learn exactly what I expect out of you."

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

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	5. Some Strings Attached

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

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**Chapter 5 – Some Strings Attached**

As the sun began to fade in the sky, turning the pleasant evening light into a dazzling shade of crimson, Severus and Ruedella sat on an ancient sofa that faced a large picture window for an evening nightcap.  They had long since finished dinner and a series of charms were working on the dishes.  Severus was never one for idle chit-chat, but he did attempt to be somewhat pleasant to his guest and was curious about her activities for the past eighteen years.  

"I was first assigned to Mongolia," Ruedella commented.  "After a few years there, I was transferred to Egypt and then to Peru.  Two years ago I was assigned as a freelancer—I didn't have a set location but traveled to various job sites when they needed my expertise.  Japan, the States, Mexico, Central Africa... you name it."  

"That would be?" Severus asked.

"Enchanted objects.  Discovering and breaking the spells associated with them.  I learned a few things about traps and wards, as one would expect, but my expertise was in the objects."  She nodded towards the curio.  "I can take apart or create just about anything now.  The more intricate spells do leave me quite fatigued, but that's standard with very complicated magic."

"I'd imagine then, that your skills in Runes have increased appreciably.  I recall that you had a specific talent in that area," Severus said, his mouth tightening, as if he were holding back a grin.  "Rabastan used to rely on you heavily…"

"Using Runes for prediction can be very dangerous," Ruedella said quickly, knowing immediately to what Severus was referring.  "I never really ventured any further with it other than predicting a few Quidditch matches.  As for actually reading ancient texts and tablets inscribed with runes, yes, I'd say that I've gained considerable skill.  In hieroglyphics and others as well.  Much of that knowledge was requisite in determining the correct spell or spells to use to deactivate the object."

"Your accuracy was alarmingly high.  Rabastan purchased a new Cleansweep with his winnings from a single year alone.  I knew he relied on you, although he would never outright state his source.  As you know, I have a knack of finding out things." Severus then added, pushing his point, "if applied correctly, Ruedella, some would say you were gifted.  In fact, some would pay a hefty fee for your services."

"I suppose I could provide the Dark Lord some insight into next week's preseason Quidditch match between Tutshill Tornados and the Montrose Magpies," Ruedella sighed tensely.  "However, he would be disappointed if he expects anything else."

"A matter of practice, I suppose," Severus inquired.

"Much practice," Ruedella snapped back, becoming quite annoyed.

"Speaking of practice, I see that you've been applying what I taught you satisfactorily," Severus said with a curt nod.  "You never had the penchant for Legilimency…"

"No," Ruedella agreed, grateful that the conversation turned to another topic.  "One of my supervisors, I discovered, was a superbly talented in it.  I can say that I was able to practice my Occulemency nearly daily."  She turned and curled up into the corner of the sofa, making herself more comfortable.  "I still remember the day that Dumbledore and McGonagall caught you teaching the lot of us Dark Arts.  I still do not know how you managed to not get expelled."

"Your supervisor was an adequate practitioner of Legilimency, but from what I can tell, I wouldn't call him skilled.  You can hold me back… somewhat… as I can make out an occasional faint glimpse into your memories and thoughts—but certainly not enough that I can take advantage.  Pity.  But I see that we need to practice more if you wish hold your own with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.  An hour or so a day for a week or two..." Severus said, not bothering to respond to, or even acknowledge, her other comments.

"You are putting yourself at great risk to help me.  This act of Gryffindorian self-sacrifice does not meet with the Severus Snape I knew.  Is this part of your greater plan that you have yet to reveal to me?" Ruedella asked tiredly.  "It has been too many years since I've been played for a pawn.  My brothers were quite adept at the practice."

"Pawn?" Severus said with a slight hint of surprise, "Not at all.  Not at all.  If you are concerned, my dear, I will simply tell Dumbledore or the Dark Lord-- whomever you fail to convince-- that you hoodwinked me.  You have a reputation for being clever, so the very notion is hardly implausible. "

"You are such a shameless flatterer, Severus," Ruedella huffed, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

He took out an antique pocket watch and studied the many-armed face; the right corner of his mouth twitched a bit as it usually did when he was amused.  "I would expect to see them by now.  Certainly my owl has reached…"

"For a man who is taking great care to show that he was, indeed, was telling the truth during his trial is taking a great risk by contacting them.  Given that Narcissa undoubtedly has placed the risk upon herself, why add the jeopardy needlessly?"

"Normally I would agree, Ruedella," Severus considered, "However, I do want to communicate to Rodolphus that my intentions towards you are honorable.  It would be remiss if I made such an assumption…"

"Plausible deniability," Ruedella added, filing away the comment of 'honorable intentions' in her mind for later examination.  "Just putting the pieces in place."  She rose from the sofa and walked over to a chess set that sat on a small table.  Two wooden chairs sat on opposing sides.  "Do you play much?"

"I find the game far too simple and one-dimensional.  Since one's opponent must limit their moves to within the rules, I find it is too predictable…"  Severus joined her at her side.  Moving two green knights into the center of the table, he then moved two scarlet knights who destroyed the green.  Taking a green bishop and pawn, he pushed the scarlet knights to destroy the bishop while the pawn meagerly defended itself, eventually losing, to a swift scarlet pawn.  "I like to change up the rules," Severus said, his eyes riveted on the destruction, "the pieces then never get complacent."

"Gryffindor beating Slytherin?" Ruedella said as she watched Severus repair the pieces with a wave of his wand.  "That's a bit traitorous…"  She paused for a second; "My I venture to guess that the knights, bishop and pawn were specific people and plays you have in mind… in your grand scheme of things?"

"We will take losses," Severus said simply.  "To play the game without those assumptions—and to not plan accordingly-- would be stupid.  A simple illustration, Ruedella," he said with a quick flick of his fingers.  She briefly thought that he might be protesting too much, but elected to take his explanation at face value for now.

"So which one am I?" Ruedella asked, pushing her theory a little.  "Dare I be so arrogant to suggest the queen?"

"There's a fine line between arrogant and astute," Severus replied.  Hearing a noise out by the chicken shed, he leaned to the side to peer out the window while Ruedella cautiously approached it.  "I see our guests have arrived," he noted while picking up the Slytherin green king and setting it beside the queen.  He looked at the chess pair for a second, his eyes darting to Ruedella for a brief moment before he arranged the pieces back in their starting play spaces.

~***~

Ruedella retook her seat on the old, threadbare sofa, cradling the goblet of wine with two hands.  She was more than nervous, petrified actually, and prayed to the powers that be that Rabastan was with Rodolphus as he was often a calming voice of reason with her treacherous and dangerous eldest brother.  Whatever game Severus was planning she did hope, for his sake, that he factored in her brothers' compounded insanity from fourteen years in Azkaban.  

The hooded, robed, and masked figures entered one by one; a total of five in all.  They stood in front of the couch in a semicircle, all motionless as Severus came over to stand beside them.  Ruedella paused and looked at their masks-- their eyes actually-- to see if she could recognize any besides her brothers.  Getting up, she proceeded to a nearby liquor cabinet and procured some wine goblets and one glass tumbler, pleased that the cabinet was reasonably well provisioned.  "I assume, Rodolphus, that you still don't take ice with your Scotch?  Lucius, if I recall, you were more of a Chablis wizard… would a full-bodied Chardonnay do in a pinch?  She poured a few more goblets and levitated them over to their owners."  Seeing only four take the drinks, she sighed, "Sorry Bella, but Severus didn't stock the Vodka…" 

"Quite a fine hostess, is she not?" Severus said as Ruedella walked over, handing him his wine glass from the evening now refilled.  "Please, do make yourselves at home and I really don't see a need for all this…" Severus made a gesture with his fingers around his face.  "As you may know, or have seen, my home is quite isolated."

"Avery!" Ruedella gasped as the slumped-shouldered man took off his mask and robes.  "I almost thought you were Theodore Nott…"

"So, my dear cousin," Lucius Malfoy said as he conjured a chair, apparently finding the other seats unsuitable for his aristocratic derriere, "been busy have we?  Narcissa went to great trouble to contact us.  She even asked for an audience with the Dark Lord himself to tell him about your endeavors.  I was shocked.  I did not think you had it in you."

"Well, that was special of Narcissa to go to so much trouble," Ruedella said with a squeak.  "Although I didn't reach the main objective, it did lay a lot of groundwork in other areas that I can… err…" She looked over to Severus for help as she was, sincerely, at a loss for words.  "The day has been long and perhaps Severus should explain the intricate details.  Severus, after all, had a huge hand…"

"I have managed to convince the Ministry and Dumbledore that this is all a large misunderstanding," Severus stepped in without further urging.  "Given that I have Dumbledore's confidence, I was able to persuade him to allow me to enter Ruedella's Muggle home for a private inspection of my own.  During that time I confiscated a few Lestrange artifacts that might be incriminating if found by the Aurors and placed a forged owl receipt from the Ministry regarding her Muggle residence application.  The wards and other protective devices, from that point, were easily explained away as her way to ensure 'Muggle safety.'"  Severus paused as Bellatrix sniggered.

"So what does Dumbledore actually believe now?" Rodolphus demanded with a bark.  His wavy brown hair was flat and lifeless and laced with a dingy grey that matched his eyes.  His face was sunken and drawn, making his large nose appear more pronounced than ever.  "Will there be a hearing?"

"Dumbledore believes that she is a good little witch trying to escape the evil influences of her brothers.  A witch who was so scared out of her wits that she went on Sabbatical and hid among Muggles.  The fact that she purchased a house exactly across the street from Harry Potter's summer residence was a fluke…" Severus splayed his palms and fingers in the air to reinforce the irony.  "He is, actually, quite afraid for her and asked that I keep an eye on her thinking that I could buy her some time—from you of course—until he could think of a plan.  In the meanwhile, I did contact your grandfather and advised him of the situation."  He then added silkily, "Had it not been for the years of trust I have built up with Dumbledore and my quick thinking, I cannot imagine poor Ruedella's fate…"

"But you **_do_** know where the house is?  Where Potter's blood relatives live?" Bellatrix interrupted, nearly frothing at the mouth.  "If we strike, we can eliminate the source of Potter's protection if not Potter himself!"  Her toothy, greedy, grin displayed her uneven, rotting teeth.  Ruedella held back her revulsion; Bellatrix used to be a beautiful woman.  Before her and Rodolphus' affiliation with the Dark Lord, Bellatrix had taken it upon herself to take Ruedella under her wing, filling an important, but otherwise absent, surrogate elder sister to the girl.  Being a quiet, astute child who knew how to be present but not noticed, Ruedella was given the privilege to hang out with Bellatrix, her sister Narcissa, and a few others including Aurora Sinistra, Debborna Wilkes and Astrelle Avery.  She wasn't their equals, but more like a favored mascot.  For an eight-year-old girl, the ability to be with twelve to fourteen year olds was an honor in itself.

"I assure you that Potter is no longer at the Muggle home," Severus responded.  "Dumbledore personally made sure that Ruedella's memory of the address had been removed; as he did for me as well.  The Dark Lord could try to reconstruct the memories, but I assure you that he will simply lose two useful and faithful followers…"

Ruedella shook her head and tried to remember her old home and address.  Realizing that indeed she could not, she bellowed, "What about my STUFF!  How in the hell am I supposed to get my clothes, my books, furniture… my key to my personal Gringotts' vault?"

"Ruedella," Rabastan offered in a surprisingly calm voice, "the Dark Lord will take care of you and…"  Ruedella's head snapped back to regard her brother.  Rabastan was always one with a cult mentality; the first to drink the pumpkin juice as it were.

Severus reached into his vest and pulled out a Gringotts' key.  "You should find a more secure place for it.  I took it because I was aware of Dumbledore's plans and knew the dunderheads he would hire to move your possessions would either not find it, or worse, steal it.  I would have thought that an employee of Gringotts would…"

"And for those moments for when I do forget," Lucius said with an amused drawl, "there are always those little things that you do, Severus, to remind me that Borgin blood flows in your veins."

"Thank you for telling me… eventually…" Ruedella snapped, quickly snatching the key from Severus' hand.  "I worked in curse breaking… not security…"

"Obviously," Severus replied drolly as he leveled a dangerous glare at Malfoy for his comment.  He added, "Dumbledore has arranged to have your items moved and the house sold.  The proceeds from the sale, minus applicable minor expenses, will be given back to you."

"So," Ruedella smiled at Rodolphus, occasionally turning her head to glare at Severus, "Mind telling me where you put the mansion?  Seems like I need a place to live…"

"Given that Dumbledore feels that you are innocent, running to live in the Lestrange Mansion will look rather odd.  He does expect that you will have contact with them—as we are expected to 'convince' them that things are not entirely as they seem.  Given that, keeping your distance, I believe, would be the wisest move.  Remember, I am supposed to protect you from them."

"And who's protecting YOU from ME!" Ruedella growled with a huff, folding her arms in frustration, her fingers slowly working towards the wand up her sleeve when Severus was not looking.  "For the short term I can stay in the Leaky Cauldron, I suppose… but it is difficult finding a flat in the wizard areas and the few months I lived with the Muggles was enough to last a lifetime…"  She grimaced at the last.

"Ruedella," Lucius spoke as he twirled the wine goblet in his hands.  "Superb wine, Severus, you do surprise me."

"There are more pleasant surprises to come, I assure you," Severus said with a lilt.  "You wanted something of Ruedella?"

"Yes…" Lucius turned back on track.  "The memory charms are unfortunate and given the results with Bertha Jorkins I doubt that the Dark Lord will attempt them on those he finds valuable.  However, to resist the temptation he may have, we might want to consider some alternatives.  The memory of the location is removed, but I would doubt that the steps… the process if you will… that you used to find out where the boy lived would have been Obliterated.  If you can tell the Dark Lord how you did it, then we can find another to duplicate the process."

Ruedella cleared her throat, covering the fact that she nearly choked on her wine.  Looking at Severus, whose eyes, for the smallest of a fraction of a second, reflected his panic—he apparently did not expect this question as well—Ruedella's stomach lurched.  Taking a casual sip of wine, she leaned back and traced her fingers over the back of the couch, portraying an arrogant façade as she rolled her eyes at Lucius question.  "Lucius, really now… it is so simple.  How do you think I did it?" 

"If I knew how you did it, I would not have asked," Lucius snarled.  "Rue-dullard…"

"Lucy-cross," Ruedella responded to her former nickname with his.  It was childish, but it nonetheless stalled for time and jerked Lucius chain.

"Perhaps a little lesson," Lucius threw down the wine and drew his wand.  Rodolphus threw himself from his own seat, scotch and glass smashing into smithereens, and intercepted Lucius, his oak wand slashed at his cousin's throat.

"It would be a pity, Lucius," Ruedella replied, "if your lesson resulted in me hitting my head and 'forgetting.'"  She looked at the small, old throw rug that was now stained with Chardonnay and scotch.  "Do you know how hard it is to get these types of stains out?"

"HOW DID YOU DO IT RUEDELLA!" Bellatrix howled, her tenuous patience spent.

"Quite simple," Ruedella said, "When the boy got off the train in Kings Cross Station, I discreetly followed him and his relatives to their transportation thing…" She waved her fingers, not knowing the name.

"Car," Severus offered.

"Thank you Severus 'Muggle Studies' Snape," Ruedella nodded.  "I followed them to their… car… When they were loading it, I discreetly put a tracking charm on it.  Using a simple variation of the Four Points charm, I followed them to their home.  I then secured a residence, luck would have it that a house came up for sale across the street, and began to study the situation from that point."

"You were missing since March," Avery noted.  "I thought you had the house for a number of months, not from the beginning of summer?"  The others murmured in agreement.  Severus was stone silent, his black eyes boring into her but offering no real comfort.

"You are dense Avery," Ruedella spat.  "When the Dark Lord returned last year and the boy escaped, I knew that he would be keen on getting Potter any way achievable.  I followed the boy last year, noting the location.  When a suitable property became available in his neighborhood, I jumped at the chance to purchase it and called in my tenure to request a sabbatical.  This allowed me the time to study the charm that protects the boy while in his relatives care undetected."  She levitated the bottle of wine over, pouring more for herself.  "Intricate plans take time, Avery.  What was it… yes… eight full months passed before I could even more myself into position.  As usual, you lack subtly."

"Absolute brilliance," Severus said softly, his tone conveying the smallest hint of affection and his lips curled up slightly.  "A true reflection of superior bloodlines," he said studying the witch.  

"Shall I offer you a cigarette?" Lucius asked, looking at Severus.  "Do you need to be excused to change your trousers?  You were always one to be enthralled with a well-laid plan."

"Hardly," Severus said, casually clearing his throat.  "But, this perhaps opens an important segway into tonight's discussions."  He walked over to the tall curio cabinet in the corner.  "Bellatrix," he said as he pointed to the various items, "do join me, as this will be of great interest to you."

The witch rose from her seat and walked over to Severus.  Studying the various artifacts, she quickly came across a few she immediately recognized.  "My Grandfather's Order of Merlin!  The Black Family Crest Ring…!"

"The family tapestry, photo albums, portraits, genealogy records," Severus sighed.  "All thrown out by Sirius Black during his final days.  When I heard about it, I cannot say that my hatred for him deepened more than even I could ever imagine."

"How did you…?" Bellatrix said between sobs.  For a powerful witch, she was often easily overcome with emotion.

"As you know, the Order of Phoenix headquarters is in the Black estate," Severus began.  "From my connection there, I found out that Black was doing this—single handedly destroying nearly a millennium of pureblood wizard heritage.  Sickening… a blasphemy to all that is wizard.  When I heard, I had Mundungus Fletcher pilfer the garbage-- stealing all that he could carry.  I took what I could as well.  The family tapestry was discarded like last week's Daily Prophet."

"My sister and I will pay good money, Severus," Bellatrix began.  "The debt we owe for your conscientious…"

"No monetary repayment is necessary, Bellatrix," Severus said as he carefully placed his hand on her shoulder.  "I heard that your sister, Andromeda was to inherit the estate.  The mansion, the family fortune… a Muggle-loving traitor to inherit the Black fortune so she could throw out the remaining traditions, the rich heritage, that Sirius Black did not.  Bellatrix, I could not let that happen…"  He turned to levitate some papers over to them.  "I took it upon myself to put a stop to it."

"Severus," Bellatrix said, her tear-stained eyes riveted to the curio.  Her thin, knobby fingers ran along the glass, desperately trying to touch the items underneath.  "If what you say is true.  If you do indeed have the Black treasures and are able to put a stop to this... this unspeakable tragedy..."  She summoned the scotch over from the liquor cabinet and pulled the decanter to her lips, taking a deep draught.  "Narcissa and I will be in your debt.  If there is anything that we can do... anything..."

Severus' lips curled into a pronounced, triumphant smile.  "As I stated, monetary repayment, Bellatrix, would not be necessary.  However, your support in the future will be most appreciated."

"Of course, Severus," Bellatrix said faintly, "of course…"

"I am so pleased to hear you say that, Bellatrix," Severus said, "So very pleased."

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Don't forget to leave your comments.  If you want to be notified of new chapters, be sure to select the Author notification from the drop down menu below (this is only for registered users).


	6. Introducing the Heir

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them.  I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot.  For those who think the story is going in circles, do pay special attention to what details (and omissions) are given to whom.  It's apparent that Severus has his own little agenda and everyone has their little part to play in it.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 6 – Introducing the Heir 

Harry Potter stretched out in the tiny twin sized bed, feeling his toes hit the hard wooden footboard.  He arched his back and stretched, wringing the last of the sleep out of his body.  Lazily opening one eye he noticed a few bright rays of sunlight that escaped through the old, moth-eaten curtain.  Judging from the angle and intensity, he estimated that it was late morning.  Springing up from bed, he quickly put on his glasses and plunged his feet into his slippers.  He turned towards the other small twin bed nearby, half expecting his best friend, Ron Weasley, to still be asleep.  However, the bed was empty and the sheets and light blanket were smoothed into place, although a few large wrinkles showed that the half-earnest job must have been performed in a hurry. 

Fetching his dressing robe, Harry then headed to his trunk, pulling out some toiletries for a quick shower.  As he went into the hall, he could hear loud voices rumbling up the large mahogany stairs from the enormous entryway below.  The Black Mansion, he was once told, was a magnificent estate of breathtaking beauty.  But time, disinterest, and the death and / or incarceration of its masters left the once regal property in disarray.  Last summer they worked hard in cleaning the enormous house, yet the work simply lifted the dust and grime; significant effort lay ahead if anyone wished to fully restore it.

Harry had arrived two days ago, early Saturday afternoon, after a thwarted kidnapping.  It was a bittersweet arrival.  He was certainly happy to see his friends and familiar faces of the various members of the Order, but the house gave him too many memories—too many memories about Sirius and how his own quick-thinking stupidity had led his beloved godfather to his death.

The voices made Harry curious, but the events of two days ago gave him a renewed sense of caution.  He approached the landing and kneeled, pressing his head against the dull wood of the railing for a better vantage point.  He could see Professor Dumbledore and Molly Weasley below.

"But what are we to do?" Molly Weasley began, her voice unusually high pitched and tinged with anxiety.  "The location is unplottable... we could..."

"Molly," Dumbledore's low voice consoled.  "The new owner is entitled to the property and we would be committing theft by withholding it."

"But Andromeda said this morning that she wasn't the owner.  You know what that means Albus..." Molly replied.  "We were counting on her letting us keep the Order here... the timing is so poor, that I must wonder..."

"This does imply that Narcissa Malfoy won her contested lawsuit," Dumbledore said tiredly.  "Although I feel Andromeda, being the elder, deserves the estate and family fortune more, Narcissa is still more entitled to this property than we."

"But Remus... Mundungus..." Molly wrung her hands.  "This is the only shelter... and often the only source of a square meal..."

"Sirius Black had another property, one inherited from an uncle, I believe," Albus said.  "Sirius' will is quite clear that Harry is the heir to his personal property.  I am sure that Harry would allow Remus and anyone else in need of shelter..."

"What do you mean we have to leave?" Harry asked, standing up and quickly thumping down the stairs.  "I thought that Sirius' will..."

"Sirius' personal will is being honored, Harry," Albus said.  "You will get..."

"I don't care about what I will 'get'!" Harry spat.  "I AM AS DESERVING TO INHERIT AS BELLATRIX LESTRANGE!" Calming himself a bit with a few deep breaths, Harry added, "I would trade it all in a second..." Harry's voice trailed off, his eyes overflowing with tears.  Raising his arm, he pointed to the corner, "Over there, we decorated the tree and opened presents."  Up there, Harry turned on the staircase, pointing to the row of beheaded House Elves, "Sirius gave them all Santa Hats and he was singing Christmas carols..."  Harry collapsed onto the stair he was standing on and put his head in his hands, his voice muffled from his sobbing and his hands, he wailed, "What heartless bastard is doing this..."

"I sincerely do not know who the new owner is, although I have some suspicions," Dumbledore said kindly.  "I stopped by the Ministry this morning.  Percy gave me the papers, as he knew that I was acting as a temporary custodian on Sirius' behalf.  He understood that the new owner wished to have an agent of his inspect the property to assess it in order to begin cleaning and repairs.  I am to meet this person, this agent, and escort them here.  The owner is apparently taking care of some business with Gringotts and is expected be in around lunch.  Percy said we had until this evening, but even he did not know who is the new owner; the case was considered to be confidential."  Dumbledore took out his multi-handed, ornate pocket watch.  "Speaking of which, I must meet the person now."

"Are you mad!" Molly began and then quickly bit her lip.  "If Narcissa Malfoy inherited the property, then this agent could be You-Know-Who himself for all we know!  Besides," she scratched her head.  "How is the owner supposed to show up on his or her own if the property is under a Fidelius charm?  Wouldn't you have to fetch them as well, bring them here, and then break the charm once we left?"

Dumbledore paused for a second, slowly lowering his watch back into a roomy pocket on the left side of his robe.  "That is a very good question, Molly."  The old wizard scratched his beard and headed to the door.  Just as he was about to leave, he turned and said, "That would imply, therefore, the owner has been here before—in my confidence."  Seeing Molly and Harry nod yes, but both looking quite perplexed, the old wizard responded.  "I certainly did not expect him to do this; but I suppose he has his reasons.  Oh, Molly, should Minerva stop by do tell her what is going on and that we are all to meet at Hogwarts this evening.  Contact the other members of the Order as soon as you can please."

"WHO has his reasons!?" Harry demanded, but it was too late, Dumbledore had disappeared through the door.

~***~

Harry's trunk and Ron's suitcase were already parked at the door.  Hermione and Ginny lugged their suitcases and trunks, one by one, down the stairs and set them with the others by the door.  "Pity we cannot use even simple charms," Ginny said with a sigh.  "There are many that are quite useful, yet harmless…"

Hermione nodded in agreement.  Quickly opening her trunk, she fished out a large brown leather bound book and proceeded to a nearby armchair.  Pulling over the ottoman, she put up her feet and made herself comfortable.  In less than an hour Remus would escort her to a rendezvous point where she would meet her parents and spend the remainder of the summer with them.

"Studying?" Ginny asked, taking a seat across the room.  She, Ron and their mother would be leaving as soon as Molly finished packing a few personal items the Order used in the kitchen.

"Light reading," Hermione said, holding up a book called, '_Transfiguration: Esoteric and Rare Charms_'

"Planning on taking a nap too?" Ron called from the stairs.  He leaned over the creaky railing and looked straight down on Hermione who look annoyed.  

"I would watch the railing," Hermione said.  "I do not think that it will hold your weight…" Turning back to Ginny she said, "It is rather interesting.  There's a whole chapter on Animagi, including various spells to detect and force one into form."  She turned to a book marked section and began to read.  "_Inculco Animagus_ is a powerful spell that can force a wizard or witch into the Animagus form.  Once under the spell, the wizard or witch cannot resume human form on their own, but must rely on another to recognize the spell and to perform the counter-spell, _Redux Homo_."  Hermione set the open book on her lap. "I knew that there were spells to force an Animagus from their form, but never knew there was one to force them into form."  She idly petted Crookshanks who was sitting on the chair's arm.  The cat kept on nipping Hermione's fingers and batting at the page she just read.  "Loony cat," Hermoine said, shooing the animal away.

"The reason," Professor McGonagall's voice carried through the marble-lined foyer, "Is that we Animagus would prefer less than a wide-spread use of the charm.  Charm is a favorable word actually -- 'Curse' is more appropriate since it forces something on someone that they do not wish."  The witch looked at title to the book, which Hermione held up for her to read.  "Excellent choice," she said with appreciation, "your own personal copy?"

"I found it upstairs," Hermione said.  "I was wondering if I could borrow it for a while…"

"I'm sure that Narcissa Malfoy would just love you perusing through the Black private library," Ron said cynically.  "Why don't you ask Professor Snape if you could borrow a few of his potions books while you're at it?"

"I just might," Hermione said coolly.  "At least he'd know that I would understand them."

"Twelve Owls, eleven Outstanding, and you act like you're Nicholas Flamel," Ron snorted teasingly.  

"Now don't be jealous, Ron," Ginny began to giggle.  "Because of your accomplishments, the Ministry of Education came up with a new grade, an 'R', for Ronald.  Not quite a Troll, but worse than 'Dreadful.'"

The teens began to banter in good-natured camaraderie, making up new grades depending on the person.  As they came up with ideas for 'M', which McGonagall insisted to stand for 'Magnificent', they noticed that someone had arrived.  They all hushed as the knob turned and the door opened and Dumbledore stepped inside.

"Molly Weasley and a few others did a marvelous job of cleaning up, but as you can see, a bit of restorative effort is needed.  Stripping, restoring the wood, re-staining… a few of the curtains may be salvageable."  Dumbledore noted as kept the door opened and a woman walked in.  Hermione, Ginny and Ron never saw the woman before; although McGonagall seemed to somewhat recognize her.

"It's that witch," a voice came from top of the stairs.  "The Lestrange…"

"Hello young Mr. Potter," Ruedella Lestrange looked up.  "I trust you are packed?"  Seeing the various suitcases she nodded and proceeded further into the room.  When the door closed, she took out her wand.  "Stand by the fireplace," she commanded to what appeared to be Hermione's suitcase.  Harry stared at the spot but then noticed a small distortion in the air.  Something was moving-- no make that many somethings were moving-- under a cloaking spell.  With a flick of her wand, the witch revealed six House Elves, all dressed in dusty grey and green trimmed tea towels.  They had carried and levitated an enormous amount of supplies—brooms, brushes, oils, soaps, paint and the like.  The little creatures looked around nervously for a second, but somehow Harry got the impression that they were glad to be here.

"Work poorly and you shall return to Lestrange Manor immediately for replacement.  I would be most disappointed should I waste such time!  Assess the manor first; take careful notes of what should be replaced verses what can be repaired.  Once that is done, report back to me."

"When shall the new owner arrive?" Dumbledore asked casually.  "I had heard early afternoon, but wanted to be sure."

"He had a few matters to attend to and should be here around lunch," Ruedella said simply.  Inspecting the foyer, she turned to Dumbledore, "The manor used to be spectacular twenty years ago.  It will take several weeks of work and an army of elves and craftsmen…"

"I assume you will be staying here then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Don't tell me SHE's the heir?" Harry yelled, rushing down the stairs.

"I believe I said that the new owner would arrive around lunch, assuming his errands take that long," Ruedella said coldly.  "Severus was correct, you are rather rude and dim-witted.  Pity, your parents were quite intelligent, if I recall."  Addressing Dumbledore again, she asked, "There was a House Elf at one time.  Shall I assume from the state the manor is in that it is dead?"

"Kreacher is not dead," a hoarse voice croaked.  "Kreacher recognizes witch as friend of Regulus Black.  You are…" the elf paused and looked a the witch.  "You are the Mistress?"  The creature began to dance, its ancient legs wobbling as it spun in a circle.  "These traitors are leaving and the Mistress has arrived!  Kreacher shall fetch Mistress some tea… does Mistress like sugar or milk…?" The elf paused for a second, looking rather confused for it had been ages since it fetched tea and for a moment had forgotten how to do it.  "Mistress need not worry, Kreacher will fetch the tea…" and the little elf disappeared with a sharp crack.

"Mistress?" McGonagall said under her breath.

"The Elf is old and confused," Ruedella said.  "If it continues, I will simply mount him on the wall…"

"Who is the owner?" McGonagall asked plainly, "Or are we supposed to wait for the grand arrival?"

"I was never one to be flashy," a low baritone said silkily.  Severus Snape quickly closed the door and walked over to Ruedella.  "I finished much more quickly than anticipated.  Had I know, I would have met you myself."  Looking around, he added, "I told you it was quite a mess, but I assume that you can handle it?"

"I will need more Elves," Ruedella said.  "I cannot spare any more, but there are always rentals if we need.  The one elf that comes with the manor is rather old and appears to be senile.  If I don't see an improvement by tomorrow, we can dispose of him-- if I can find a suitable plaque…"

"You are not going to cut off Kreacher's head are you?" Hermione gasped, slamming the large book closed with a thump.

"Go ahead," Harry said, almost gleefully.  "I'll even hold down the little bastard for you!"

"I am so glad that you approve, Mr. Potter," Severus said dryly.  

"Could you indulge me, Severus?" Dumbledore said.  He pointed to a gold ring sitting on Severus' hand, "I see that …"

"Yes," Severus said simply, finishing Dumbledore's attempted observation.  "Sirius Black never bothered to tell you?"  Severus sniffed, "No I don't suppose he would have, would he?"

"Sirius didn't tell you what?" Harry demanded, still not quite getting what was transpiring.  Ruedella simply rolled her eyes and walked across the room to study a cabinet.

"That Severus Snape is his brother," Dumbledore said.  "No, Severus, Sirius never did mention it."

"I prefer the term half-brother," Severus said, "as it removes me more from Sirius."

Dumbledore nodded wordlessly for a few seconds and then cleared his throat.  "Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, please go upstairs and wait in one of the bedrooms.  Minerva, could you be so kind as to show Miss Lestrange around so that she can proceed with her inspection?"  The children, except for Harry, began to proceed up the stairs.  Harry just stood there, his fists clenched and his jaw locked.  "Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice still kind, but with an edge of authority, "please go upstairs.  I promise that I will make time for you later this afternoon to ask questions.  In the meanwhile, I would like a word with the new Master Black."

"I am keeping the Snape name," Severus said quickly, "although I have assumed the responsibility of keeping the traditions and history of the Black name alive…"

"That is most interesting, Severus, as I never realized you had a latent interest in genealogy," Dumbledore said as he headed to the large door that separated the foyer from other rooms which eventually led into the kitchen.  "Perhaps we can snitch some scones and tea that Kreacher is happily preparing for his new Mistress?"  Dumbledore looked at Severus and smiled, "Silly creature, isn't he, calling her Mistress?"

"Indeed," Severus replied, looking over to Ruedella who had disengaged herself from the overall conversation and was heading into the formal dining room, with Minerva McGonagall following close behind.

~***~

"I do not suppose you are inclined to tell me what is going on?" Minerva McGonagall asked her former student.  Ruedella had always been a quiet girl, studious and reserved -- which for a Slytherin simply meant that she was clever enough not to get caught.

"Regarding Severus or with me?" Ruedella asked while busily scratching notes on a clipboard.

"Let us start with Severus and then proceed to you," Minerva said.  "I never did get all the details as to what exactly happened on Saturday, although I do know that Albus feels that there was some sort of misunderstanding."

"Severus is here because he is the son of Nefarius Black and Deaville Snape," Ruedella said.  Looking at Minerva, she added, "Illegitimate, obviously, but nonetheless a blood Black.  I must say though, the look on Narcissa Malfoy's face was worth all the gold in Gringotts'.  Poor dear, she fell face first into her Sunday dinner.  Draco thought for a second he was an orphan…"  Ruedella's lopsided smile betrayed that she enjoyed watching the other witch's reaction a bit too much.

"Severus is a fine wizard and colleague, despite his rather unsettling temperament.  However, I am concerned that her reaction-- given Severus' mother's family's reputation-- would be a sticking point, plus the fact that he did not actually bear the Black name.  Narcissa's wrath, and that of your sister-in-law, will be great," the elder witch warned.

"They were surprised, but there were a few mitigating factors that made them to be more agreeable to the situation.  Bellatrix is quite supportive although Narcissa is not overly warm to the matter she does think more about appearances.  Given Lucius' current reputation, her list of allies is growing quite thin.  As such she is more motivated to see the value and considering that Severus has made a suitable name for himself—Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at such a young age, an achievement rivaling that of even Phineas Nigellus—she sees that perhaps the name of Snape my be turning back for the better.  It was, at one time, more revered than the Malfoys."

"During the seventeenth century, yes," Minerva agreed.  "I do not suppose that cutting out Andromeda was a positive factor as well?"

"That was no small favor," Ruedella said.  "Sirius, I understand, threw out many Black treasures.  Many were Dark Arts objects of rather questionable value, but did have some historical significance.  Others were simple family heirlooms, metals, honors, tapestries, portraits, books… even a set of ancient goblin silverware.  Severus rescued these items, or at least as many as he could.  That proved to Narcissa and Bellatrix that Severus was a true Black…"

"Don't ever let Severus hear you say that," Minerva said, biting her lip.  "May I ask why you have been in contact with Bellatrix, a known fugitive?  Were you not hiding from your brothers and presumably her as well?"

"Severus was able to convince them that I was after the Potter boy and failed," she paused.  "For now they are satisfied with the answer given that the Headmaster helped to lay some of that misinformation himself.  We used that acceptance to borrow a number of House Elves for this project.  However, aside from retrieving the elves, Severus does not wish for me to spend much time around them.  For appearances and just in case they start asking me too many questions.  Severus put his reputation on the line for me, I understand the risk he is taking and it would be foolish for me to ignore prudent measures."

"So for his assistance, you're playing housekeeper?" Minerva asked, her tone not entirely rhetorical. 

"He felt the house required a woman's touch.  I believe, however, that it requires several barrels of an incendiary agent and a torch."  Ruedella paced the room, her eyes riveted on the huge chandelier.  "Even with magic, this will take an entire day to clean to perfection, let alone assess which elements we must replace."

"Severus must have a considerable amount of leverage over you given that he is trusting you here and now," Minerva stated, following the younger witch around the room.  "This duality makes me nervous."

"At least you are not living it," Ruedella said stiffly.  "Severus does what he must," she eyed a House Elf who wandered into the room.  She motioned her head towards the elf, hoping Minerva would understand to choose her words carefully.  "The arrangements between he and I are not your concern.  If you will excuse me, I have work to do.  If you have not finished packing, may I suggest you take the opportunity?"

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Don't forget to leave your comments.  If you want to be notified of new chapters, be sure to select the Author notification from the drop down menu below (this is only for registered users).


	7. The Best Laid Plan

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them.  I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot.  For those who think the story is going in circles, do pay special attention to what details (and omissions) are given to whom.  It's apparent that Severus has his own little agenda and everyone has their little part to play in it.  

**Elizabeth:**  I don't know what to say other than this was intended to be primarily a Snape-related story.  I will have lots of Harry in it (he's the second character), but the storyline really centers more on Snape than Harry and his gang.  Sorry and hate to see you go, but the story is what the story is…

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**Chapter 7 – The Best Laid Plan...**

"GET OUT!" Kreacher commanded Dumbledore and Snape as they entered the kitchen.  "Kreacher is preparing morning tea for Mistress... GET OUT!"  The elf hopped on the large table and began rummaging through the box Molly Weasley had just used for packing, searching, presumably, for something suitable to throw.  

He had grabbed a large black spatula and held it over his head when Snape roared, "IF YOU DARE THROW ANYTHING AT YOUR MASTER, I SHALL CLOTHES YOU SO FAST THAT YOU WILL BE GRATEFUL TO WORK FOR KNUTS AND HAND-OUTS!"

"Really, Severus," Dumbledore looked at his friend, disappointed, "was that necessary?"

"Master?" Kreacher said with disbelief.  He was about to lob a caustic comment when he saw Snape holding up his hand, bearing the Black signet ring on his finger.  "MASTER!!" the elf bellowed, realizing what he had just done and pulling his ears fiercely.  Kreacher then threw himself off the table and began to ram his head forcibly, over and over, into the cupboards, its thrusts so violent and powerful that the cupboard doors flew open and the dinnerware rattled, a few cups and saucers falling and shattering to the floor below.

Snape took a few quick steps, and grabbed the elf by its filthy rags, picking the creature off of up the ground and bringing it up to his own eye level.  "Fetch Miss Lestrange her tea now and leave this room immediately!  I shall deal with you later!"  He set the elf down, who immediately scooped up the tray and disappeared with a sharp crack.  

"Oh, he made extra scones and there's plenty of left-over hot water!" Dumbledore exclaimed with delight, doing his best to ignore his ill-tempered friend's behavior.  "Raspberry... my favorite!"  The Headmaster fetched two plates and some butter from the icebox and proceeded to sit down at the table.  "Sit, Severus," he said, patting the chair beside him.  "If you don't mind taking orders in your own home?"

Severus sat, but passed on the tea and scone.  The Potions Master watched for a few minutes as the Headmaster idly hummed as he busied himself with buttering the scone and attending to his tea.  Finally, the humming—and apparent nonchalant ness of the elder wizard—unnerved Severus to such a degree that he snapped, "I suppose you wish to know the details?"

"Approximately thirty-nine years ago Nefarius Black had an affair with your mother," Dumbledore began, as he set down the butter knife apparently satisfied that the layer of butter was of a perfect, even thickness across the bottom of the confectionary.  "Learning later that she was pregnant and refusing to terminate, he made several attempts on her life, the last of which involved hiring a vampire when she was approximately seven to eight months pregnant.  Unfortunately, despite her being an astute practitioner of the Dark Arts—or Defense Against, if one is to be overly specific—she was barely able to escape with her own life and was severely bitten.  Had it not been for a client happening by at the particular time, I am afraid that she—and you by proxy-- would have been desanguined.

"After this client dispatched the vampire and took your mother to St. Mungo's, the client cornered Black to ensure that he would provide suitable financial assistance to support your upbringing and visit from time to time.  Unfortunately when you were seven, Dalmond Avery thought it amusing to attempt to blackmail Nefarius and in Avery's bungling, alerted Mrs. Black."

"Bungling?" Severus spat, "the ill-bred mouth breather nearly yelled it out in the middle of Diagon Alley!  My mother and I were shopping, passing Mrs. Black and her two brats when Avery thought it would be fun to watch!"  Severus seethed.

"You extracted your revenge on Avery senior, I understand.  During the days when you were less enlightened than you are now," Dumbledore said with a hint of ice in his tone.

"My father stopped visiting immediately after that," Severus said, diverting the topic.  "Not a huge loss as I found his visits more of a terrifying chore..."

"I felt that a boy needed his father and the wizard was obliged to support you," Dumbledore said with sad resignation, "Had I known he would terrorize you and your mother, I would have put a stop to it.  However, despite that he discontinued his visits, I did make sure he deposited a certain amount of Galleons in your mother's account each month.  When you were old enough, your Hogwart's tuition notice was sent to him directly and various appropriate expense accounts were set up to take care of your supplies.  Your mother was a frugal woman and settled for second-hand clothes and books...I suppose that she feared his wrath.  She was quite unaware that behind the scenes, I was making sure Nefarius was living up to his obligations.  Thuban Malfoy, who was quite put out that Nefarius nearly killed his sole supply of DeathKnell Flowers, was a rather unexpected ally of mine to make sure that Nefarius did not make another attempt on your lives."  Dumbledore offered a wary smile, "I am not overly fond of Thuban, but sometimes a common goal makes for awkward alliances.  Let's say that he employed certain methods, which I would not venture to use myself of course, that Nefarius found most motivating.  I do not believe, however, that Thuban knew that Nefarius was your father—simply that Nefarius was keen on seeing your mother dead."

"You knew!  All these years!" Severus uncharacteristically displayed his astonishment.  Making a revelation, he inquired, "You were the 'client' that saved her!  May I ask what you were doing?  I am curious as to your business dealings with her as her clientele sought very specific...shall we say…exotic...plants."  At the last Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow and leveled a smirk.

"Cantophy Vine," Dumbledore said.  "Nearly impossible to grow but the best remedy there is for rheumatism.  Dry the leaves and use as a tea infusion.  Pity that Professor Sprout has uneven luck in growing them."

"Why did you not offer my mother a job?" Severus asked.  "I believe Professor Sprout was hired about thirty or so years ago."

"Thirty-three," Dumbledore corrected.  "You mother turned down the job.  Unfortunately, she could make far more money in her current line of work, despite the fact that I urged her otherwise.  She was quite focused on paying down the inherited debts and I must say that she was quite close in doing so..."

"She had by the time she was killed," Severus said softly.

"And had Voldemort not taken her life because she failed to properly grown a very rare, and nearly impossible to cultivate, translucent Devil's Snare for another one of his immortality experiments, she might have been able to move to a safer line of work," Dumbledore added.  "And it was that act by Voldemort that eventually brought you to me."

"It was that act by him, not to mention many other, that made me realize that he was a complete fraud... a lunatic," Severus said, folding his arms.

"So here we are," Dumbledore said, with a resigned sigh.  "Nefarius Black's legitimate sons are dead and his bastard second born son who he tried to kill-- and when he could not, make his life a living hell— has inherited his name and estate.  The last of Blacks are dead, but the bloodline lives on.  So, tell me, Severus, what are your intentions?  Sell this all so you can repurchase more of the former Snape lands back?"

"I intend to keep this mansion and restore it," Severus said simply.  "There are other commercial properties that come with the estate—modest but money making—that will provide various income streams.  Some reinvestment may be necessary to grow them, but the income is more than sufficient now to maintain the property and invest in its upgrades.  The rest of the fortune I will invest in either the commercial properties or other investments of varying liquidity.  Over time, this will be used to repurchase what I can."

"Considerable plan that would require a substantial amount of money," Dumbledore said in between bites of the scone.  Gently turning the teacup in the saucer, he asked innocently, "How many years will this take you, assuming if everything goes to plan?"

"Sixty to seventy years," Severus said.  "That is assuming I keep the base of the fortune intact, adding to in over the years to keep with normal inflation, and, of course, taking into account the lifestyle and other social obligations.  For example, I discovered this morning that I am now, apparently, Cornelius Fudge's new best friend," Severus said the last with an unmistakable tint of disgust in his voice.  "The plan may come to fruition sooner, of course, if there is an unexpected windfall."

"Such as an Order of Merlin First Degree, or marriage to one of the more established wizarding households?" Dumbledore inquired.  "This type of plan is generational, and as such does require a partner.  What type of dowry does Ruedella fetch?"

Severus raised an eyebrow.  Seeing Dumbledore match him with an equally raised bushy white one over a twinkling blue eye, he simply exhaled in defeat.  "A mated pair of young House Elves; a small vineyard and winery in France—a former Malfoy property actually that passed into the Lestranges through her mother; a mated pair of Eagle Owls; 25,000 Galleons; and various household items not including what she currently owns of her own outright," Severus said ticking off the items as if they were fresh on his mind.  "Thuban Malfoy may offer additional since I am a bloodline Black."

"And is Ruedella aware of this, or are you simply going to show her the contract as you drag her, under a body-bind hex, to the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked.  "She's is a very bright witch, but if I recall, she sometimes fails to understand some of the more subtle areas..."

"Although she as naïve as one can be with Lestrange and Malfoy blood in ones veins, I am quite certain that she is aware something is going on," Severus said, looking at the kitchen door.

"So, in you empire building you will take a witch as well for her money?" Dumbledore said, clucking his tongue against his cheek disapprovingly.  "Personally, I think the poor girl deserves better of you.  She did, at one time, care for you a great deal.  You owe her more than you know..."

"She was a silly bushy haired little girl with overgrown teeth and a know-it-all attitude who took to following me around because I was one of her brother's friends," Severus said, waving his hand in dismissal of Dumbledore's comments.  "There was one minor incident when we were younger, after we both were out of Hogwarts, but that was influenced by Fire Whiskey..."

"And how do you feel about her?" Dumbledore inquired.  "Or is she simply a means to an end?  You will be bound to her for the rest of your natural life.  Do tell me Severus, I hope that your scheming and over elaborate plan is simply a guise to bury any true emotional attachment.  A marriage of convenience oftentimes becomes quite the opposite."

"She does not overly annoy me," Severus replied.  "She and I do share some interests and she is a capable witch.  However, regardless of your wish to overlay romance, this arrangement does suit both our needs."

"Severus, you can barely stand sitting at the faculty dining table," Dumbledore said, "now you are insistent that you can have some level of intimacy with someone you have not seen in eighteen years?  I believe you are convincing yourself of this simply because it accelerates or enhances some grand plan you have been plotting for years  

"Why do I think, Severus, that you have some master document detailing an overly elaborate task list and timeline?" Dumbledore inquired.  "The pureblood wizards hold two traditions which I feel are equally deplorable; the enslavement of House Elves and arranged alliance marriages.  The enslavement of the House Elves, I suppose, is far better as the House Elves wish to have a Master, although I have often wondered if it is a result of a curse placed long ago."

"Being a Pureblood from a proper family, she understands the value of alliances and I am in a position now to offer her a much better life than before.  She is no longer young and I can offer her a position in an ancient and noble wizarding house," Severus rolled his eyes.  "If Lucretia were still alive, she would have signed off on it in a heartbeat.  Besides, this arrangement has put me in a better position to serve the Order."  Severus reached into his vest and pulled out a large box.  Opening it, it revealed an emerald ring in a platinum setting; the large emerald was encircled with smaller diamonds.  "The traditional engagement ring for the Black family, or so the Head Goblin at Gringotts informed me.  I did ensure it was not cursed."

Dumbledore examined the ring, letting out a low appreciative whistle.  Closing the lid on the box, he watched as Severus put it back into his pocket.  "But Ruedella is a grown woman," he countered, "not some young girl fresh out of Hogwarts.  She's traveled the world."

"She will do what her grandfather says," Severus said with quick confidence, as if displaying his assurance in the matter would indeed make it so.  "Once Thuban does us the favor of responding to my request.  I did work out the details with Rodolphus..." Severus growled, "... once Rabastan and I were able to convince the dolt that the vampire attack on my mother did not leave me as a vampire.  Bloody stupid dunderhead has seen me more than once out in the sunlight."

"Well...let's say that there are a few residual features that you inherited from the attacks and as such you are required to take potions..." Dumbledore waved his hand.  "Does Ruedella..."

"Rabastan let her in on that 'little secret' years ago," Severus snuffed.  

"And while you are at Hogwarts, I suppose that you will keep her here or will she go back to Gringotts?" Dumbledore asked.  "Assuming she does not turn you into something..."

"I will request that she assume the required social duties, but I suppose some consulting contracts here and there would keep her otherwise occupied..." Severus began.

"Until your timetable dictates that it is time for her to squeeze out a little bat or two," Dumbledore interrupted.  His voice betrayed a level of annoyance, but he kept his tone as amicable as possible in hopes of talking some sense into the younger wizard.

"Must you act like a first year?  Next you'll tell me not to upset Minerva lest she 'have kittens.'  Obviously I must ask that you remove the charm protecting this house.  I will add one myself and be its keeper.  She is safe here and once our business with her family is through, I hope to keep her away from them as much as possible," Severus replied tersely.

"I was thinking along the same lines—regarding her protection," Dumbledore said.  "I suppose you are aware of her Quidditch talent?"

"She cannot ride a broom with running straight into the nearest stone wall," Severus said.  "Where a wall is lacking, the ground works just as well…"

"I was well aware of Rabastan's gambling ring when he was in school," Dumbledore interrupted, "and I found out that Ruedella was assisting him.  Actual Seers cannot control their talent; in the two cases where Sybil made accurate predictions, she was quite unaware that she was Seeing.  Because a Rune Diviner can ask questions at will, someone even with a hint of the talent could be very dangerous.  As such, many believe that Rune Divination is rooted in Dark Arts.  Although I am still undecided if I agree with that, I do acknowledge that such a talent could be very dangerous.  I am glad that she has abandoned the practice—which it seems she has out of fear—but because when we know the future, sometimes we can alter it.  I maintain that such knowledge alters our sense and inalienable right to choice."

"Making prophecies self-fulfilling or altering events that should take place in order to prevent more disastrous ones from occurring in their stead," Severus concluded.  "Yes, Albus, I am quite aware and that is why I am going to great lengths to protect her.  Thus far, Rabastan has not, to my knowledge, mentioned this to anyone.  I fear, though, that if he is pressed to perform for the Dark Lord, he may compromise her to gain the Dark Lord's favor.  She may not be able to reproduce Trelawney's prophesy—but he may be insistent that she try."

"Well, then it is those great lengths that explain this," Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out the forged owl receipt.  "Do tell Perloin that his work is impressive, it even fooled me until I realized that her Muggle home had anti-owl wards.  Given that, how could she even get this receipt?" He waved his hand as Severus was about to speak.  "I give you a great deal of latitude because I trust you, Severus, and we can explain the receipt, assuming any Auror thinks of this puzzle, by saying that she must have temporarily took them down.  I know that the receipt was necessary to convince others, and from time to time I can see the benefit in some well-intended hoodwinking.  But," Dumbledore looked at the younger wizard straight in the eyes, "I would prefer that you hone your tricks on someone else.  I believed the girl was innocent, there was no need to convince me further."

"The receipt, actually," Severus explained, "was invaluable in that I told the others it was forged and I placed it there to solidify her 'appearance' of innocence.  Perloin flooed me, apparently Rodolphus sent someone to his shop to inquire about my story."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly, "I am starting to lose track on precisely who you are trying to fool in all this.  However, back to the original topic..." He paused and took a few sips of tea.  "I was going to discuss this with her this week, but no better time than today, I suppose.  As you know I need an instructor..."

"I will not permit her to..." Severus began hurriedly.

"Bill Weasley will teach Defense Against Dark Arts this year," Dumbledore interrupted, anticipating Severus' concern.  "Professor Enigmus turned in her resignation earlier this month.  I knew that she was approaching retirement and I believe that the 'official' news of Voldemort's return influenced her decision.  Ruedella would be well qualified to teach Ancient Runes and I can offer her the protection Hogwarts offers.  It would, however, require that she leave Gringotts...at least temporarily or extend her sabbatical…"

As Dumbledore was going to continue, a loud screech at the kitchen window gained both their attentions.  A huge Eagle Owl, clad in a formal green flying vest and hood bearing the Malfoy crest, perched on the sill.  Seeing Severus, the owl hopped in, and few to the table, dropping a parcel about the size of a cigar box in front of him.  Summoning some fresh meat from the icebox, Severus fed it to the owl and then carefully checked the package for traps before opening it.  "From Thuban Malfoy," he said to Dumbledore, who was looking on with more than mild interest.

"I will leave you to your business," Dumbledore said.  "In the meanwhile I shall ensure that everyone is packed and on their way.  When everyone has left, I will eliminate the charm on the mansion and you can re-establish it.  I would also like the opportunity to approach Ruedella..."

"He was not supposed to do this!" Severus threw down the box on the table.  "Rodolphus guaranteed that he would simply sign off..."

"A knot in your perfectly laid out time table?" Dumbledore asked, wondering if Thuban would yet again be an unexpected ally.

Severus simply threw the letter across the table to the old wizard, and folded his arms.  He stared at the parchment, his mind apparently working through various combinations, variations, and angles to concoct the perfect loophole to the scenario the senior Malfoy laid out.

"Let's see," Dumbledore picked up the parchment, lowering his glasses down his nose to assist with reading.

_Severus –_

_News of your most recent exploits has reached my ears.  Needless to say, I am quite interested in seeing how far you get.  Obviously, I cannot turn down your request outright, and all considering, I have no real reason.  My grandson, Lucius, speaks highly of you and I daresay that you are perhaps a positive reflection upon your mother – a second generation of Snape who is starting to restore his birthrights.  May the fortune and name of Black assist you in your endeavor as the ranks of true Purebloods in waning._

_I have signed your request, however, an additional signature—that of Ruedella's—is required to make it binding.  She is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions.  Of course, the contract is charmed to be sensitive to any magical interventions.  Send a copy of the signed contacts at your earliest convenience._

_Regards,_

_Thuban Julius Malfoy_

"It would appear, Severus," Dumbledore said with an amused chuckle, "that you will have to add few additional tasks onto your timetable."

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	8. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them.  I'm glad that so many are enjoying the story.  Just to be fair, I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot.  For those of you wondering 'desanguined' means 'drained of blood.'

Chapter 8 – Let's Make a Deal 

"Ohh... this is quite a pretty bauble, isn't it?" Ruedella quipped, slipping the emerald on her left ring finger and holding it up, inspecting how it glittered in the few rays of sunlight that penetrated through a nearby window.  "What else do you have?" She held up her right hand, quickly motioning her fingers forward.

"I could provide you with a reasonable expense account for clothes and whatnot," Severus noted while reading off of a prepared list.  "However, I do stress that my main goal is to rebuild the Snape name, so I do not intend on squandering Galleons on gowns, robes, and various shiny objects.  Of course you would share in the prestige and status this rebuilding would bring, as would exercising my privileges under the Black crest."  He pushed a paper her way across the large dining room table.

The house was empty save them and the house elves that were busy working on the Master Bedroom.  The Hippogriff who once occupied the room made quite a mess of the bed when he was informed of the relocation.  The large beast shred the bed and urinated on the floors; a squalor that was in addition to the usual menagerie of partially eaten carcasses, feathers, and other debris that housing such a large creature in a small location would accumulate.

"Why me?" Ruedella inquired.  "Before two days ago you have not heard from me in eighteen years.  Even that night, we parted under rather unpleasant circumstances."

"The comment I made to Evan Rosier regarding your flat-chestedness and that had it not been so cold in the rose bushes I would have swore you were a wizard was made under the influence of..." Severus tried to explain.

"There is no need to apologize, that was what the slap was for when you rescued me from the jail.  Apparently my assumption that you did knew was incorrect," Ruedella said with a shrug of her shoulders.  Seeing a letter with the Malfoy crest, she curiously snatched it up, holding it away from Severus who tried to grab it back.  After taking a few moments to read her Grandfather's letter, she looked up at Severus and said, "So you were trying to pull this off behind my back?  I knew when you, Rodolphus, and Rabastan went slinking off it wasn't to smoke cannabis behind the greenhouse!"  She then set aside the letter and read dowry list.  When through, she peered over the parchment at Severus with a raised eyebrow and proclaimed, "Then again, maybe you were..."

"You have filled out quite nicely over the years," Severus said, sliding in the comment in an attempt to detract her.

"You are no longer such a skinny, pathetic runt yourself," Ruedella said tersely, "Oh, and you are considerably less greasy too."  Setting down the list, she then folded her hands on the table and leaned forward.  Looking at the letters, then the contract, and then lastly over to him, she added,  "Now, the vampire-attack thing... is this why you were always so good at hiding in the shadows and scaring the crap out of everyone?"

"Yes," Severus said folding his arms, "If you insist on putting it that way."

"And why you were not exactly spectacular at charms and transfiguration… as you used to say 'foolish wand waving.'" Ruedella probed.

"Are you suggesting that I am less than an adequate wizard?" Severus roared, slamming his fist down.

"I am only asking questions," Ruedella said.  "If I were not at all interested in your…proposal…I would not be making such interrogatives.  I could not help but notice that when we were in the common room as students, you were quite brilliant at magic, but I recall that your scores were…well…" She paused, "You did quite well in written portions…err…"

"I perform basic magic quite well during the day," Severus said evenly, struggling to keep his tongue in check, "I can perform complex magic quite well out of direct sunlight.  That is why I prefer the dungeons.  Had Flitwick and McGonagall chose to hold their classes in less well lit rooms, I suppose that my practicum exams would have been better.  I assure you," he said with a wisp of a smile, "I am better in transfiguration that you believe."  He then added, "In addition, I must take a potion on a regular basis to help stem certain side effects and allow me prolonged exposure to light.  There are no potions available to allow a full vampire out in the sunlight, nor are they wizards…"

"Nothing hereditary then?" Ruedella asked.

"Did you not ever pay attention during Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Severus rolled his eyes.  "You are becoming as dense as your eldest brother…"

"You should practice your flattery," Ruedella said in a snit, "besides I do not recall a lesson on dhampirs as they are not considered to be dangerous.  They are almost as rare as seeing a Metamorphanagus."

"A true dhampir has a vampire father," Severus said, rolling his eyes.

"Right… and Kelpies are found in Mongolia," Ruedella said sarcastically.  "So it is the potion that is wreaking havoc on your hair, or do you have 'running water' issues as well?"

Severus looked at her fuming, "I don't see how this has any bearing..."

"If you wish for me to share your bed and spread my legs, then it does have some bearing," Ruedella said.  "I will assume that until this point you have not, shall we say, had a compelling need to pay attention to certain personal details?"

"The potion," Severus said quickly and then something under his breath about other details he would attend to.  He pushed the contract, a quill, and ink well towards her, "If this is sufficient, then..."

"You never answered by question," Ruedella pushed the items back.  "Why me?"

"Because I do not find you to be overly annoying and I can tolerate you for extended periods of time.  I saved your life and you owe me a favor.  I will, as your husband, continue to protect you and guard you from harm.  Aside from that, you are the only witch near my age who has yet to be married, is childless, or otherwise what I consider to be suitable," Severus said as he tapped his long sallow finger on the contract.

"Plus when the Dark Lord or the Aurors eventually pop off my brothers, I will be the sole heir to the Lestrange estate," Ruedella noted.  Seeing Severus' unwavering expression, she added, "The two green knights, remember?"

"I would be lying if that particular scenario did not cross my mind," Severus said, silently congratulating her on her astute observation and conclusion.  He rose from his chair and walked around the table towards her.  Taking a seat next to her, he said, "Ruedella, with our skills and positioning, we could find ourselves to be among the wealthiest-- if not the wealthiest outright-- wizarding family in Britain, certainly well established in the world.  Right now I can give you a life without want.  Dumbledore can assist in protecting you while we present this to your family and the Dark Lord as an opportunity for you to be a second set of eyes and ears at Hogwarts.  All we need to do is bide out time, slowly building up our empire and when the others finish the dirty work, we can step out and take our fair share of the credit."

Ruedella sat back in her chair, thinking about the offer.  "I do not find you repulsive and will admit that at one time I was quite attracted to you for some strange reason.  Let's say that age has agreed with you..." Seeing Severus nod and motion his head at the papers, she sighed, "However, I cannot sign this."

"Why?" Severus said, clenching his teeth to keep his anger and his notoriously acerbic wit under reins.

"Your reasons are out of convenience," Ruedella said.  "If my brothers survive or you find another witch more suitable... in other words from a wealthier family... I fear that I will find myself poisoned or worse.  Although I find your plan compelling, I cannot see much beyond a short-term assurance of my safety.  Once your children are bore, I have very little leverage remaining.  Should the Dark Lord win and my brothers survive, even less.  In addition," she took a sip of her tea, and looked deeply into her cup, choosing her words, "I saw what a marriage of alliance and convenience did to my mother.  She was established, secure, but felt no love, no passion, for my father.  They spent their time hiding affairs and fighting.  Considering that I have the means to support myself, not lavishly, but comfortable, I do not see the value of being tied to something in which I am not going to be happy."

"So you would prefer to die an old maid surrounded by your cats than a Mistress of an expansive estate, multiple mansions, and a few adoring children?" Severus asked.

"You illustrate my point," she said with a nod, "you did not add yourself as 'loving husband'?  In fact, this is hardly a marriage proposal.  You did not get on your knee, you did not say, 'Ruedella do me the favor to be my wife' or some nonsense like that... you simply sat me down, had Kreacher fetch some tea and began to drone on about the 'arrangement.'  The Head Goblin at Gringotts puts more emotion in his sales pitches; for a second I thought you were trying to sell me a time share in Shangri-La."

"What does love... **_emotion_**... have to do with this?" Severus said, astounded.  "This is a purely straight forward and logical contract.  We both have things to offer one another, we are not repulsed by one another and we can tolerate one another.  I can add a clause regarding your 'assured health' or something that would convince you that I will not do away with you!" He shrugged, "I fail to see why some silly emotional attachments should get in the way..."

"What about affairs?" Ruedella asked, "My grandmother had a very good way to deal with that..."

"She hunted down the witches, kidnapped, and beheaded them.  The heads are mounted in a hidden, private parlor," Severus said.  "Lucius accidentally stumbled in on the room when he was a boy, or so he told me."

"I did not know Grandma Machellivellia did that!" Ruedella said, tapping her finger to her cheek as she absorbed the information.  "I was referring to my Grandma Lestrange, Darcolvia.  She snuck a potion into my Grandfather's drink on their wedding night making his seed sterile for any woman except for her."

"Let us just add a fidelity clause and try not to accidentally poison each other or behead the innocent," Severus said.  "It is far less messy and fewer loose ends that one or the other would eventually have to cover up."

"Good idea," Ruedella agreed.  "I wonder if she took the idea from Cassiopia Black..."

"What?" Severus said his patience strained.

"If Grandma Machellivellia used Cassiopia's idea to mount the House Elf heads on the mistresses?" Ruedella said, exasperated.

"Really, Ruedella, are you that interested in knowing?"

"I suppose not..." Ruedella trailed off, "well, on second hand, I do have a morbid curiosity..."

"Fine!" Severus grabbed a parchment and wrote down a few lines, "A mortality clause, a fidelity clause—mind you these clauses will be both ways..."

"That's fair," Ruedella agreed.  "Yes, separation of assets..."

"You have the mortality clause…" Severus started to explain.

"A double protection," Ruedella said, "If something--and more than likely something will--happen to my brothers, I don't want the deeds and vault contents to be dumped into the Black and or Snape vaults.  I will keep the deeds and keys to my name.  Of course, if I decide to become your wife, I will provide funds... within reason... to assist you on your quest—I would, after all, be a Snape, wouldn't I?"  Seeing Severus' mouth show the slightest of a smile, she added, "I will make a deal with you, Severus.  I will take Dumbledore's offer and join you at Hogwarts for the next school year.  In the meanwhile, I will assist you with the renovations as part of my repayment for your assistance; but I shall stay in the guest room, not the Master suite, despite your order to the elves that they put my clothes in there once they are through cleaning."

"An oversight on my end," Severus offered, frowning when Ruedella let off an incredulous snort.

"If you can show, without having to rely on some ulterior motive or gain to justify your actions, that you care about me, then I will sign the document," Ruedella offered.

"Ah!" Severus exclaimed, "What about me?  How will I know that you care about me?"

"I thought such silly emotions did not matter to you?" Ruedella asked.  "Very well, I will then add, 'if I can requite those feelings'—is that better Severus?"

"Fine," he said flatly until he realized that he just agreed to her provision that made deal more specific.

"Add those provisions we discussed, and if you can, by the end of the school year show that you truly care for me then I will marry you."  Ruedella took off the ring and put it back into the box, pushing it back towards the wizard.

"And what does the Runes say?" Severus asked.  "I am curious if you consulted them."

"I did consult them," Ruedella concurred, "but I simply asked for clarity for a current situation.  I will not attempt to see the future on this…I only do Quidditch…remember?"

"What did you ask?" Severus inquired.

"That, Severus," Ruedella grinned, "is strictly confidential.  Besides, it would ruin the surprise."  She rose from the table, "You know what you need to do, Severus..."

"I assume this involves dates and being seen with you in public," Severus lamented with a resigned sigh.  "Flowers, silly trinkets, romantic dinners…"

"Yes, like the Yule Ball, minus the attempts to magically silence me," Ruedella said.

"Say something interesting and there won't be a reason..." Severus said under his breath.

"Ah, ah," Ruedella admonished, waving her finger.  Pushing an elaborate scroll over to Severus she added, "This came in during your discussion with Dumbledore.  It appears to be an invitation to the St. Mungo's invitational formal..."

"Riffling through my mail already?" Severus said with a huff. 

"It's always held the second to last Friday evening of August," Ruedella said.  "Do you have the green Slytherin ceremonial dress robe like Professor Karkaroff used to wear?"

"I have one, shoved in the back of my armoire where the hideous thing belongs," Severus said.  "I have a black one..."

"Nonsense, you are the youngest Slytherin Head of House in centuries," Ruedella said.  "You should emphasize your achievements."  She then asked, "How does Karkaroff like Durmstrang?"

"I don't know since he ran off last year after the Triwizard Tournament.  I assume that the shifty, unctuous fool managed to get himself killed by now," Severus said.  "However, the reason I have the Slytherin Head of House position is that no one else wanted it."

"A technicality," Ruedella said lightly with a wave of her hand.  

~***~

More than a month passed since Harry left 12 Grimmauld Place, being unceremoniously evicted by the new heir, Severus Snape.  Since then he spent his time divided between the Weasleys and a small, but cozy, home in Hogsmeade that Sirius Black had once inherited from his Uncle Algie.  Harry was now the rightful owner and had immediately given Remus Lupin permission to live there.  Mundungus Fletcher, he decided, could stay from time to time, but Harry never took to the man, as there was something about him that Harry did not like.  The house, like 12 Grimmauld Place, was placed under a Fideliuscharm for Harry's protection and to allow the Order of the Phoenix to use the house at its new headquarters.

Buckbeak had found the basement, which Dumbledore magically enlarged for the intelligent beast, much to the Hippogriff's liking.  Harry and Remus made it a point to spend several hours a day with the Hippogriff, as the beast was still wanted and could not be seen outside.  While visiting, Harry set up a table and chair and used the time to study when he and Remus were not practicing spells.

However this Saturday morning Harry was lying lazily on the couch, reading the Daily Prophet and munching on a piece of bread.  Remus was still in his room, preparing for the upcoming full moon that he would spend down in the basement with Buckbeak.  Snape still prepared and supplied Remus with his potion, allowing the wizard to keep his sanity during the monthly transformations.  The last time Snape brought it was during an Order of the Phoenix meeting late last month.  Harry attended the meetings now; part a concession from Dumbledore for putting Harry through so much the prior year without letting him know what was going on and the fact that it appeared that defeating Voldemort rested heavily on Harry's shoulders.  Also, Harry told Dumbledore-- half jokingly, half serious-- that if the Order wanted to use his house then he had to be in on the conversations.  The downside, however, was that Harry was told in no uncertain terms that he was not to discuss anything with Ron, Hermione, Ginny or any others who were not directly involved with the Order.  Hermione and Ginny seemed to understand, however Ron was less than pleased with the news.  Fortunately, Fred and George let enough slip that Ron did not feel he was completely left out.

He heard a knock at the door and before he could get up, Remus jogged out of his room and answered it.  Molly and Ron, along with Fred and George walked in, carrying a few bags of groceries between them.

"Molly, we really appreciate this," Remus said, digging through the sacks and putting the various items away.  "I really don't like to leave Harry alone, given that the Death Eaters are still at large.  Fideliuscharm or not, better safe than sorry."  Pouring himself a large mug of milk, he sat at the kitchen table.  "Hey, Harry, aren't you going to say hello?"

Harry simply grunted and then finally left the couch, shuffling into the kitchen.  He greeted everyone with a quick nod and took a seat next to Remus, opening the paper he brought with him to the article he was just reading.

"What's eating you, Harry?" Remus asked.  "You seemed to be in a good mood this morning.  Don't tell me that Skeeter..."

Harry simply tossed the paper at Remus and put his arms and head on the table.

Molly put away the loaf of bread and walked behind Remus, reading over his shoulder.  "I did not see the paper this morning, Harry.  Did something terrible happen?"  

Harry said nothing for a few moments and then croaked out, "Go ahead, read it... the git is dancing on his grave..."

"Let's see," Remus cleared his throat, "The eight hundredth and thirty-fifth St. Mungo's invitational Ball and fundraiser was held last night."  Remus continued reading, finally reaching the area that gave Harry his grief.  "Severus Snape, recent heir to the Black estate after the death of his half-brother, Sirius Black, made a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's for their new department, _Potions Based Maladies and Antidotes_.  Snape, current Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was accompanied by Miss Ruedella Lestrange, who shall be the new Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts starting September first.  Miss Lestrange is currently assisting Professor Snape with restoring his ancestral home, the Black estate at 12 Grimmauld Place.  However, word on the street is that it is not only the mansion who is benefiting from Miss Lestrange's witch's touch."  Remus let out a low whistle and handed George the paper, "You guys have to see this, Snape is not dressed head to toe in black!  I think he even might have washed his hair…"

"No way!" Fred exclaimed, leaping from his seat to look over his twin's shoulder.  Ron joined him as well.  "That thing looks like its straight out of the fourteenth century!  Quite regal..." They pointed to Snape's robes, long, flowing, yet well tailored robes of green and silver with black accents.  His date wore a robe kimono of strikingly similar colors; her hair fashioned elegantly on her head with two chopstick pins.  They were far from handsome, but they did look elegant.

"Silk," Remus said, "Actually its the Slytherin ceremonial and formal robe.  Professor Karkaroff used to wear his whenever he could.  It is a Slytherin tradition that the Head of House gets a robe after ten years of service.  I think Ravenclaw has something similar.  This is probably the first time Severus has worn his, aside from the fitting."

"Lovely date," George snickered, crossing his eyes slightly and sticking out his front teeth, overemphasizing Ruedella's overbite.  "Let me guess, she has a great personality..."

"She has the personality of a doorknob," Harry said.  He saw Remus frown.  "OK, Remus, what is she really like?"

"Err..." Remus rubbed his gray-speckled hair, "Honestly, I don't really recall…I never knew her that well."

"Karkaroff was a Professor at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, once Remus' earlier comment sunk in.  "I do remember when he arrived for the Triwizard Tournament that he said something about how good it was to be back, but I was not sure what he meant."

"He was one of Dippet's cronies.  Was Head of Slytherin from 1955 or so until fifteen or sixteen years ago when he was caught being a Death Eater.  Because he gave testimony, his sentence was greatly reduced and he was later hired at Durmstrang.  For about a year Professor Sinistra acted as the interim Head of House until Severus was hired.  Aurora was far too interested in her star charts to make an effective Head of House, so despite the fact she was in Slytherin when she was a student, Dumbledore felt Severus was better suited." Remus took a drink from his mug of milk, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he continued,  "Interesting that Ruedella is coming on board—I suppose she took Dumbledore up on the offer for protection, although it seems that Severus did smooth over a few things.  Can't be too careful, I suppose.  Quite a bit of a step-down in the pay scale from a curse-breaker to a Professor."

"Well, I see that Bill was holding out regarding Yule gifts," Molly said indigently, reacting to the tidbit of information about a curse breaker's salary.  "Well, she was on sabbatical... simple thing to extend it I suppose."

"Or she could be taking the opportunity to get closer to me," Harry said.

"Well, Harry, if Dumbledore had the least bit of an inkling she was doing that, he would not open the doors to let her in.  In my opinion she's gold digging," Molly said with assurance.  "Oh, she looks aloof in the photo, but Snape is now worth a few boatloads of money.  She's all over him like a dung beetle in Hippogriff poo."

"Now you would think that Snape would get a better date," Fred said.  "I mean there's a service in Knockturn Alley and for a few Galleons you can get a real knock-out..." He trailed off as his mother looked at him, her jaw dropped.  "I mean, George found out when he..."

"Oh, so you get a few Galleons in your pocket and instead of turning them over to your father and I, you and your brother instead invest in whores..." Molly began her rant.

"I found out from Percy who told us about it a couple of years ago," George said, mouthing 'I'll get you' to his twin.  "Don't you worry, Angelina and Katie are keeping us busy..."

"So, what you're saying is that he must have some interest in her?" Remus clarified, hoping to steer this conversation.  "They used to spend time together in school, but I cannot say if they were dating or not.  It has been a long time.  Maybe he is really trying to find out what she was doing so close to Harry?"

"That must be it," Molly said, apparently satisfied that it could be a plausible explanation.

"Snape can take his favors and shove them," Harry said.  "The more that slimy git does, the more he holds it over my head.  Like hell he was 'searching' for us in the forest, my bet is that the minute I told him about Sirius, he flew off to Voldemort!  I know that he set me up with the pensieve... he purposefully did that as an excuse to discontinue my lessons once he softened me up!" Harry's fist roughly struck the table.  "He set up Sirius to die and used me!  Can't you all see... can't you see that he had this planned???"

"Harry," Remus looked at the boy with concern, "we know that Sirius' death hit you hard and that you are reeling because you feel responsible..."

"I'm not responsible," Harry snapped, "well, only to the degree that I should have kept a better eye on Snape.  It's Snape that was responsible, I bet he was behind the whole thing..."

"Harry, dear," Molly Weasley said very softly, shooing her sons out of the kitchen—the lot of them, including Ron—looking at Harry as if he were quite mad, "Professor Snape is playing a very dangerous game and he often has to give the impression that he is playing for the other side.  You are right, he does give information to 'You-Know-Who' but he and Dumbledore have this all planned out.  As for the pensieve, Harry, you did make a conscious choice to look into it… as hard as this may be to hear, you did break his trust."

"Next time, I would like to break more than just his trust," Harry said with a scowl.  

"Harry," Remus's voice was firm, "Dumbledore did a lot to convince Severus to let you in his Potions class this year.  So, do yourself a favor and try to make these last two years go easier.  There is no way that either of you will ever become friends, but at least settle for mutual tolerance?  If he gets on your case about stupid stuff, which he will, just owl me.  I'll help smooth it out.  I know you believe what you do, but keep in mind that you need to keep working on your Occulemency to help keep Voldemort out.  Strong emotions, such as your hatred of Snape, will give Voldemort an open gateway into your mind.  It's really important, Harry, that you don't let such things happen again.  I know it's hard, but try…"

Harry sat silently for a few moments, considering what Molly and Remus had said.  Looking at the photo, he could see Snape sneering at him.  The wizard was tall and proud, sporting an aristocratic visage as he held his arm out for his companion.  His green robes flowed down his body, with black embroidered runes decorating the hems.  Snape, Harry considered, looked good; his skin somewhat less sallow and his hair was pulled back, much like that of Lucius Malfoy, except shorter.  Every once in awhile Snape's photo would flash the Black signet ring at Harry—a subtle, yet powerful taunt.

Harry clenched his teeth at the last and pushed the paper away.  "I will consider what is best for the Order," Harry said in a slow, deliberate pace, as if he were forcing the words from his throat.  "But there will be a limit to how much I take.  If he acts reasonably, then so will I."

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

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	9. Weasley's New Apprentice

**Author's Notes:**  This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while.  I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others.  I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive.  If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)  

I hope you enjoy.  

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them.  I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 9 – Weasley's New Apprentice

Harry walked into the cavernous Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and took his seat.  Snatching his book, quill, and a notebook from his satchel, he began to prepare for class, giving Ron and Hermione only a brief, but underlying friendly grunt, when they sat next to him.  Taking out another parchment, his class timetable, he studied it with earnest.  Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Care for Magical Creatures were his six selected classes for which he was to spend his next two years specializing.

A week ago Harry, Ron, and Ginny were escorted to Kings Cross Station to take the Hogwarts Express back to school.  The six-hour trip was both long and exhausting; especially since rumor had it that Voldemort was planning an attack on the Express itself.  The train cars were full of children and Aurors, with a few Hogwarts Professors donating their time-- including Bill Weasley, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  Knowing the particular history of the position, Harry silently and fervently hoped that the misfortune surrounding it would not show itself again this year.  The upside to the trip was that it appeared that Draco Malfoy and a few of the Slytherins who were part of the now defunct Inquisitorial Squad were receiving their just desserts through exclusion, ridicule, and overall torment.  Although Malfoy and Parkinson were allowed to retain their Prefect status, Hermione had mentioned that she had overheard that the two were on probation.

He was in the process of putting away his timetable when someone kicked his satchel.

"Get your junk out of the aisle, Potter," an icy cold voice punctured the room.  A highly polished fine leather shoe kicked the satchel some more, spilling the contents across the floor.  "Well, at least you don't buy second-hand crap like those low-life Weasleys…"

"Pick it up, Malfoy," Harry said slowly as his green eyes gazed on his scattered possessions.  He was in no mood for games and he, at this point, would just as soon use a wounding curse on the boy than look at him.

"Make me," Draco Malfoy said venomously.  "Or was there something in there from your…deceased…godfather?"  Draco proceeded to a few items, jamming his foot down on the satchel and a few nearby books, grinding them into the floor.  "What? Are you not going to stop me, or are you too afraid?"

"Oh, I would," Harry said, "but then you would go running off to your beloved cousin…you know…the one who stole the Black name and estate from your Mother?  That signet ring, I believe, should have gone to you…" Harry smiled as he watched Draco's face flush.  There was indeed a small bit of resentment that Harry noted and filed away for future use.  "I think it looks good on Professor Snape, don't you?"

"Mr. Malfoy, is there a problem?" Bill Weasley walked out of his office that adjoined the classroom.  "Why are Mr. Potter's books all over the floor?"

"He was just picking them up," Harry said lazily, smirking at Draco.  "He tripped over my satchel, spilling the contents.  Apparently his mind was somewhere else.  Perhaps he was thinking about the reward on his Father's head?  What did the Daily Prophet say it was now, Malfoy?  10,000 Galleons?"

"You bastard…" Draco seethed, his pointed pale face twisted with rage, as he leaned forward towards Harry.

"Mr. Malfoy," Bill said firmly, "pick up the items and return them to Mr. Potter and go to your seat!"

Draco whipped around to Bill and nodded curtly, knowing that for now this battle was forfeit.  With a flick of his wand, the papers, books and other personal effects levitated from the floor and packed themselves back into the satchel.  Harry sat back in his chair and mouthed 'good boy' to Draco, snickering as the Slytherin sulked off.  Deciding that Draco was not worth his attention any more, Harry turned to Ron, who was listening in on a conversation Hermione and Ernie Macmillan were having.

"I think she will be fine," Ernie said.  "This is her first time teaching.  I think that her classes will be much more practical instead of textbook only from Professor Enigmus."

"Although I can see the value of hands-on application," Hermione countered, "I am afraid that we will spend too much time on auxiliary applications and not enough spending time on more advanced Runes and their interpretations.  We just began understanding the directional significance last year.  How the Runes are arranged and their proximity to others makes every difference.  This can be a lot of rote memorization."

"Granger," Ernie said as he began preparing for class, "When you encounter Runes they won't be in a textbook.  They will be on walls, on artifacts, on divination stones…"

"Now that would be cool," Ron said, "Divination Runes.  If I could do that, I would be betting on every Quidditch match…"

"What sort of idiot would do that?" Hermione turned to Ron, "Really, this type of magic is very serious and should not be treated lightly.  You're starting to sound like Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Ron snorted.  "Hardly…"

"No, it true," Ernie started to laugh, "he asked the same thing today when Professor Lestrange talked about various applications in her introduction this morning.  She was so furious that she sent him straight away to Professor Snape with a note."

"Probably passing love letters already," Ron sniggered.

"You saw the Daily Prophet article too?" Ernie whispered.  "I heard that she was arrested mid-summer…something about living in a Muggle area and not registering.  My Mum works for the Ministry.  She said that she had heard something, but it was covered up.  That is very odd because of…well…you know who her brothers are…?"

"Dumbledore gave her the job to protect her," Harry added in a hushed whisper.  "Just keep this under your hat Ernie."  Harry took a deep breath and bit his lip, hoping that Ernie could be somewhat trustworthy with this little piece of information.

"So there is…" Ernie inquired eagerly.

"Just leave it be," Hermione said.  "She's okay, not another Umbridge…"

"We hope," Ron said, finishing Hermione's thought for her.

~***~

The classes for the day were at an end, and the students were enjoying a few minutes of relaxation before dinnertime in the main courtyard lawn.  Harry was resting on his stomach and reading over his Defense Against the Dark Arts syllabus, making careful notes of reports, tests, projects and other due dates in his calendar.  He looked forward to Quidditch this year, but knew that keeping up with his full course load and playing the sport would be a delicate and difficult juggling act.  Hermione sat next to him, with Ron at her side.  She was reading 'Genealogy of Wizards' while Ron was taking a quick snooze, laying on his back with his arm draped over his eyes to keep out the waning afternoon sunlight.

"Isn't that one of the books from Sirius' house?" Harry asked, looking up from his notes and tilting his head sideways so he could read the title on the book's spine.

"There was a copy there," Hermione said.  "I found a second-hand copy at Flourish and Botts.  It is actually quite interesting…"  Flipping through, she said, "Did you know that the Black family is known for animagi?"

"Well, that would make sense," Harry said.  "Sirius, Tonks… there's two right there.  I'd imagine that the odds would be rather slim."

"Dumbledore too," Hermione said.  "Several families, Dumbledore, Black…"

"I wonder if McGonagall is in there too," Ron said sleepily, his eyes still closed.

"That is her married name," Hermione said.  "I have no idea her maiden name."  She flipped through to a large page with a chart, "Charms: Diggory, Couch; Defensive Spells: Longbottom, Potter…"

"Let me see that," Harry said, his interest piqued.  "Dark Arts: Snape, Dolohov… gee, go figure there.  Rune Divination: Malfoy…" Harry looked across the large yard to where Malfoy was sitting with his entourage.  "Might be the reason he asked about the Rune thing before.  I wonder if he is doing it himself?"

"Professor Enigmus never taught us that," Hermione said.  "She kept to very practical areas.  Professor Lestrange said that she might show us an example of 'clarification' where one uses Runes to get insight into present or past events.  She said that it was hit or miss, depending on one's talent, but it would be a good exercise for relational reading."

"That does not rule out that he was taught it at home.  He did not learn all those curses from Professor Flitwick either," Harry replied.  "Hey, there's Bill and Fleur!"

"That's Professor Weasley to you, Harry," Ron chuckled as he got up onto his elbows for a better view.  "It was neat that Fleur took a position in the greenhouses, although I cannot picture her getting her hands dirty."

"She might break a nail," Hermione said, not lifting her head from the book, "that just would be a shame…"

Ron and Harry watched as Bill laid out a blanket and a small picnic basket.  The couple then sat on the blanket, side by side.  Bill grabbed a couple of glasses and a small bottle of wine from within the small wicker basket, opened the bottle and poured he and Fleur each a glass.  The couple talked while Fleur sat her dainty blonde head on Bill's shoulder, her giggles echoing through the courtyard, forcing Hermione to roll her eyes at the other girl's overly feminine antics.

"Happy hours are starting early," Ron said, looking at his watch.  "I overheard Dumbledore talking to him before lunch about 'overt displays of affection.'  Bill got her flowers this morning and gave them to her before breakfast.  I suppose Dumbledore doesn't mind them dating, just that they provide a good example for us students."

"Really?" Hermione looked up from her book and watched the couple for a second.  "First class this morning was Ancient Runes.  I decided to get there very early to start copying any notes.  As I entered the room, I saw Professor Snape at the front of the class, standing by Professor Lestrange's desk, throwing some roses at her.  I think he said something to the effect of 'Will this do?' and then he stormed out when he saw me."

"Ah," Ron said, "That's how you lost five points this morning…"

"Yes…" Hermione admitted sheepishly.  "He took them off as I jumped to the side to let him pass.  However, I did win them back later," Hermione retorted, quite pleased with herself.  "Plus five additional from Bill, remember?"

"Yes, yes…" Ron said, almost dismissively.  A day without Hermione winning points for Gryffindor was as rare as a day when the sun did not rise.  "Hey Mione, Harry…what do you call two curses and an elf beheading?" Ron asked in a riddle.

"I cannot imagine," Hermione replied.  Harry simply grunted as he was only half-listening.

"A Slytherin date," Ron started to laugh.  "Fred told me that one last week…"

"It's disgusting." Hermione frowned and returned to her book.

"Speaking of which," Harry nudged Hermione.  "Here comes Snape."

"A little sunny out for him, isn't it?" Hermione asked rhetorically.  

Snape stood in the shadowed entryway, surveying the courtyard, his eyes stopping on each student and resting on the trio for a long while—apparently trying to find any misdemeanor or transgression for which he could vigorously liberate points.  They kept their heads down, watching the Potions Master carefully out of the corner of their eye.  Slowly, the wizard's head turned and then locked straight ahead on Bill and Fleur.  Snape stared at the couple for a few seconds, his head leaning to the side and his lip twitching slightly.  Just as suddenly as he arrived, the Potions Master turned on heel and rushed back into the castle, his robes making a sharp 'snap' as he made haste.

"Damn," Ron spat, "the git is going to tell on them…"  Ron jumped up and jogged over to Bill while Harry and Hermione remained behind.

"Bill…" Ron called out and then turned beet red and cursed himself for the slip when his eldest brother eyed him up.  "Err… Professor Weasley…" he stammered, "Darn it, what am I supposed to call you?"

"Bill is fine in private as long as you don't shout it out," Bill said.  "Do you…err…mind?" he asked, nodding his head towards Fleur who was looking at Ron as if he were a giant, unwelcome, bug.

"Sorry…" Ron said, "But I wouldn't bother you except that Snape was just in the door.  He spotted you with Fleur and the wine.  I think he's gong to…"

"Damn him!" Bill cursed.  "Bloody git has been following us around all week!  I've about…"

"Following you?" Ron asked.  "Why on earth would he do that?"

"The wizard's a nosey slimy git," Bill said, perhaps a bit too loud as a group of nearby Ravenclaws started to giggle.  "Sorry…I really should not say things like that.  I think he's trying to catch Fleur and I so he can have us sacked.  The bloke's a real weirdo, I thought that Lestrange would keep him busy."

"Well, judging from his continued foul mood, I don't think she keeping him overly preoccupied," Ron said.

"Oh, he is just upset," Fleur interjected in a semi-sad voice.  Her English, courtesy of Bill's 'private lessons' had improved considerably over the year, although her accent was still quite pronounced.  "I had overheard in the faculty lounge that he had asked Lestrange to marry him and she refused."

"Fleur…" Bill said warningly, "Some matters are not to be discussed with students."  He looked at Ron, who was about to fall over.  "Not a word of it, understand?  I am afraid given the sensitive nature…it would be traced back to us and for THAT we could get in trouble."

"Lips are sealed," Ron said with a few gulps as he motioned his fingers over his mouth as he desperately tried to hold back his combination of astonishment, revulsion, and laughter.  "Oh, this will be hard…" Ron's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he looked over to Harry and Hermione.

"Just do it," Bill ordered.  "Now scram before I start taking points off…" The elder Weasley smiled as Ron scampered back over to his friends.

~***~

Ron threw himself at Hermione's side, burying his face in the cool grass.

"So…" Harry asked, regarding Ron's rather odd behavior.

"He knows," Ron said, taking deep controlled breaths.  "I guess Snape has been following him all week."

"Okay," Hermione said, "that is hardly such astonishing or surprising news that would make you want to bury your face in the grass."

"I can't tell you," Ron said flatly, looking up quickly and then putting his face back down.

"Can't tell us what?" Harry asked, curious.

"I can't tell you," Ron said.

"Is it about Bill and Fleur?" Hermione inquired.

"No," Ron replied.  Taking a few deep breaths, he sat up.  "Listen, Fleur overheard something in the faculty lounge and she told it to me.  Some sensitive information-- nothing about us or concerning us, but stuff that could get them in trouble if I repeated it.  Okay?"  Ron felt somewhat better, more so, actually that he had a secret that he could not tell Harry, turning the tables somewhat.

"Okay," Harry said, now more than ever curious yet relieved that it was not some other deep hidden secret that someone neglected to tell him until all hell had broken loose and all that was left was the body count.  Turning back to his book, something caught his eye across the courtyard.  "Oh…" Harry motioned his head towards one of the entrances, "Snape's back…"

"I'll go tell Bill," Ron said, slowly getting to his knees.  Halfway up, he noticed that Bill had conjured up a mirror and was using it to look over his shoulder, apparently spying on Snape in return.  Bill moved the mirror around discreetly and then, all of a sudden simply closed it and sat it down, slapping his hand on his forehead like he made a stupid error.  Ron could see Fleur's confused expression as Bill put down the mirror and Bill leaning over to whisper something in her ear.  Fleur whipped around, presumably to stare at Snape, but Bill grabbed her .

"I think Bill knows," Ron said.  

"Nice idea about the mirror," Hermione observed, stifling a laugh and a triumphant expression, as if his actions had inspired a final revelation.

"Yeah, I don't know why he didn't use it," Ron said.  "Of course, looking at Snape and his general appearance, he probably can't see his reflection in a mirror."

"Actually, I thought Snape has looked considerably less greasy," Hermione remarked.

"From super greasy to somewhat greasy," Harry sniffed, "Oh yeah, Mione, a considerable improvement.  I wonder if his teeth are still a tinged deep yellow…"  He turned to Snape who was marching back to the entryway.  It appeared that he was calling to someone.

Turning from the archway, Snape walked over to a dark, shadowed spot by the castle wall.  Professor Lestrange now stood just inside the courtyard, carrying a large satchel; a few scrolls could be seen peeking out from the side flap.  Snape conjured a blanket and laid it on the ground then motioned with his head for the witch to join him.  Lestrange looked rather amused as she proceeded over and took a seat.  Still standing, the Potions Master looked over again to Bill, his face betraying just for a moment his confusion, and then he sat down next to Lestrange who wasted no time in digging through her scroll-laden satchel for a large tome, pulling it out and opening it to where a large blue ribbon pre-marked it.

"Hey, it's the Slytherin version of you two," Harry said, jokingly.  "She's reading a book ignoring him while he is just sitting there clueless…"

"Clueless, eh?" Ron snorted back, "At least I know when to grab a girl's hand."

"No clueless," Harry said, panning his eyes between the two couples.  "You know what, I am getting the impression that he is copying Bill…"

"No way!" Ron said as he looked on, discreetly, as Snape summoned a House Elf.  A few seconds later the elf returned with a picnic basket.  "Damn Harry, you might be right…"

"Maybe that is where Snape got the idea of the flowers?  Perhaps he saw Bill give those to Fleur this morning," Hermione concluded.  "Now what is Bill doing?"  She sat down her book and watched as Bill took the wine bottle and threw it up in the air.  With a flick of his wand, and a spell that they could not hear from their vantage point, a shimmering blue light enclosed the bottle and with a quick sharp 'pop' a pearly white fluffy kitten tumbled, unharmed, to the ground."

"Oh," Hermione put her hands to her mouth, "That was incredible!"

"Looks like Snape's going to try it," Harry said, amused.  Ron and Hermione turned and locked onto the dark couple sitting in the shadows.  They could see Snape pointing at Bill, and waving his hand dismissively, as if the trick were of first year standard.  He too, picked up a bottle (after emptying the contents into their glasses), but Lestrange grabbed his arm, apparently trying to dissuade him.  Shaking her off, he set the bottle to the side and pulled out his wand.  They couldn't help but notice that Lestrange scooted back to the edge of the blanket and held the book to her face.  She wasn't reading it, but rather it appeared that she was using it for protection.

Snape tossed the bottle high into the air and yelled out a spell, his wand emitting a dark purple light.  The bottle, like the other, basked in the spell for a few moments before it began its transformation.  The smooth green glass container started to sprout black hair, then a tail at the end.  As the ears started to appear, it exploded with an ear shattering 'CRACK!'  Nearby students screamed and ducked for cover from the flying pieces of fur-covered smoldering glass.  Hermione jumped as a furry, glass-like tail fell into her open book.

Ron picked up the twitching, smoking tail and pronounced, "So this is why Snape teaches potions."

The screams turned to nervous murmurs and then all of a sudden turned into silence when everyone realized what happened and exactly who was behind it.  The entire population of the courtyard stared at the feared Potions Master who was now on his feet and staring everyone down in turn, daring even one to laugh.  Professor Lestrange took out her wand and summoned the various pieces into the open basket as discreetly as she could.  It was apparent that she was biting her lip, struggling not to laugh herself, her grey eyes occasionally looking up from her task to the wizard who stood before her.  After collecting the glass, and finally herself, she slowly stood up beside the Potions Master and, with a quick snap of her fingers, folded the blanket and placed it in the basket.  Snape quickly stalked off to the castle door and Lestrange followed behind.

~***~

"No one was hurt, and that's what is important," Dumbledore said kindly as he fed Fawkes a cracker.  "I would not be upset Severus, the transfiguration is a difficult one and I daresay that you probably have not even attempted to transfigure anything in some time.  Simply a matter of practice."  "Isn't that right Minerva?" Dumbledore eyed up Minerva McGonagall who stood beside Severus.  She simply offered a small smile and cleared her throat diplomatically, taking the question as a rhetorical one and wisely not answering.

"Come off it," Severus snapped, "You very well knew the only way I passed my transfiguration OWLs was because of the written portion!"  He turned to Bill and leaned towards the man menacingly, "If you breath a single word of this…"

"Stop following me and I will consider it," Bill said, folding his arms defiantly.  Addressing Dumbledore Bill added, motioning his head towards Snape, "I realize that he is probably put off that I got the position and he did not, but I will not tolerate him mirroring my every move!  Everywhere I turn, especially when I am with Fleur, he is there lurking in the shadows.  It has only been a week, but I will not put up with this all year!"  He sniffed, turning to Snape, "Let me guess, you're trying to catch Fleur and I at something so you can get me sacked… that's it… isn't it?"

"No," Severus said, "This is very ridiculous…coincidence."  Severus looked over to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus who simply slumped in his frame, his head in his hands.

"Severus, you were out sunning yourself.  Well, not sunning yourself, you were sitting in the shade.  However the only time you ever go outside during the day is during Quidditch Matches and most of those days you ask me to cast a spell making it overcast." Dumbledore said tiredly. "Really now…"

"Ruedella and I…" Snape began.

"Ahhhhh…" Dumbledore interrupted as an epiphany reached him.  "Minerva, could you please excuse us?" He smiled politely at the Deputy Headmistress and nodded towards the door, indicating that she was excused from his large circular office.

"'Ahhhh'…what?" Bill asked, after he watched the witch's tall green and feathered hat disappear down the revolving staircase.

"You are trying to learn from Bill, are you not?" Dumbledore asked Severus.  "Seeing how he interacts with Fleur…the flowers, the picnic…"

"You're trying to date Ruedella Lestrange?" Bill broke into a wide smile, playing dumb to the information Fleur blurted out earlier.  "You are using me as a guide?"

Severus rose from his chair fuming.  "If you two have had your fun, then I must be going to dinner."

"Hold out the seat for Ruedella and try to talk to her instead of sneering at students," Bill offered to the departing black clad wizard

Severus reached the exit but it was closed.  Turning to Dumbledore, he was about to say something but noticed the elder wizard's amused expression, "I take it you are not finished humiliating me yet?"

"Severus, Severus," Dumbledore chided, "I am simply trying to help."  Pointing to the chair, he asked, "Please, sit down."

The Potions Master returned to the chair, eyeing up Bill Weasley warily.  "I do suppose that I was trying to glean a few…ideas…"

"What, no backhanded arranged contracts?" Bill said, "A smart bloke like you can figure a way around this."

Severus looked at the younger wizard, unsure if he had just heard an insult or compliment.  "Let us say that other, more straightforward, avenues are blocked."

"And getting her flowers and throwing them at her in her classroom is not going to open many more paths either," Dumbledore said.  When he saw Severus about to protest, he added, "Dippet's portrait is in the Ancient Runes classroom." Turning to Weasley, the Headmaster asked, "Now, Bill, I know I asked you to take a little extra time this year with Longbottom and Harry.  I was wondering if there was any more free time…"

"You want me to coach him on…" Bill began but then trailed off.  Severus whipped his head towards Dumbledore, mouthing 'no' over and over again.  "Well…err…" Bill rubbed his neck; rather unsure what would be appropriate to say.

"Your discretion would be most appreciated," Dumbledore said.

"I…err…" Bill started and then reluctantly turned his head to look Severus in the eye.  The Potions Master refused to look at him.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I DO know what to do with a witch once I get her into my bedroom," Severus growled, finally turning his head towards the younger red-headed wizard.  "I don't need help in THAT…"

"Are you sure?" Bill teased.  Seeing Severus flex his fingers and the vein in his temple throb, he added, "I suppose I could go over a few things…I guess."

"Now that is lovely," Dumbledore said.  "A wonderful sense of cooperation.  I suppose Bill, that you and Severus can make your arrangements and discuss compensation on your own."

"Compensation!" Severus roared, "This is extortion!"

"I will not ask for monetary compensation," Bill said, "That would be too gauche."

"What DO you want then…" Severus clenched his teeth.

"I am so glad that you see the value," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.  "I am sure that in no time Ruedella will put down that book."

"She does not need to put down the book!" Severus said, "All I need her to do is sign her name!"

"Sign her name?" Bill asked, "Just whip up a little potion…"

"The contract would detect magical interference," Severus said.  "I might be able to use bloodroot, but the risks of poisoning her while trying to evade the charms is too high."

"I was being rhetorical," Bill said rubbing his forehead.  He flashed a concerned looked to Dumbledore, who was wearing a thin smile.  "OK, here's what I want.  First, for you to stop following Fleur and I around."

"I do have better things to do," Severus shrugged.  "And…"

"Take points off from Malfoy if he calls Hermione Granger a Mudblood," Bill said.  "The boy is getting way to aggressive and I fear it is a matter to time before he tries to seriously hurt her…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Normally, Bill, this would be out of bounds.  However," he looked over his glasses to Severus, "Malfoy is now on the verge of becoming dangerous.  In a few months he will be of age and we both fear he will receive the Mark on his seventeenth birthday.  You need to tighten your reins on him, and a few others we have discussed in the past, before something terrible happens."

"Agreed," Severus said with a nod, "I will balance this as much as I can afford."

"And Harry," Bill said.  He paused watching Severus tighten up and lock his jaw.  "I will admit that the boy sometimes requires a good kick in the arse.  But, if I hear one more word about how you denounce Sirius Black or blame Harry for Sirius' death, it will be you and I, with wands drawn, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest." Then he added, "During the day."

Severus seethed for a moment, his black eyes boring into Bill's blue.  Wrinkling his lips as if he smelled something distasteful, he said, "I suppose the numbskull did kill himself, despite my warnings for him to keep low.  Is there anything else or is your little wish list through?"

"That will be sufficient," Bill said, leaning back in the chair.  "So, when would you like to begin?"

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

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	10. Secrets

Author's Notes: This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.) 

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them. I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot. Sorry this took so long, but I've had other commitments.  Hope you enjoy this little additional piece to the bigger puzzle.

**Note:**  I've re-posted this chapter because I noticed some rather major error.  Macmillon instead of Macmillan... that's what you get when you add something to the spell-check when you're half asleep.  8)

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 10 – Secrets 

Severus Snape slammed into the classroom, the door only stopping when it smashed noisily into the nearby wall.  He paced quickly into the room, steaming ahead on his way to his podium and demonstration area.  In a swift movement, practiced and honed over the years, he reached out during mid-pace and snagged a copy of 'Witch Weekly' from Ginny Weasley and quickly folded it under his arm.

Reaching his desk, he opened the lower drawer and added the magazine to a growing menagerie of prior editions of Witch Weekly, a stack of Quibblers, a few Muggle magazines that had odd, static photographs, an assortment of candies and sugar quills, a number of items from Weasley Wizard Wheezes—including a nose growth elixir whose label sported a thin, sallow-faced wizard who looked suspiciously familiar—and a recent edition of Playwizard with a coquettish, buxom redheaded witch on the cover who exposed her breasts for any of age wizard.  The Playwizards he normally reserved for Filch; after he read the articles, of course.

"Thank you Miss Weasley," he said with a sneer.  "And five points."  The girl opened her mouth, apparently ready to protest.  "Yes, you wish to make a comment?"

"No sir," she said wisely and began to prepare for class.

"Really, Miss Weasley," he taunted, "nothing at all?"  Watching the girl wiggle slightly in her chair and shake her head 'no', he smirked.  "I thought not.  Well, if we may proceed..."

Since the lecture was a continuation from the last class-- purposefully designed so that the students would have maximum time to prepare the simple, yet time-consuming process of brewing-- Severus found himself back at his desk sooner than usual.  Fortunately this clutch of fifth years was significantly better than last and this class of double potions with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was rather uneventful aside from the occasional and relatively minor mishap.  

Taking a quick scan of the room and satisfied that everyone was hard at work, Severus reached over to his desk drawer and quietly opened it.  Taking out the newly confiscated Witch Weekly, he laid it carefully on the edge of the desk drawer.  The cover sported an attractive, but not model-quality, house-witch holding up a tray of mouth-watering pumpkin pastries.  Along the side the teasers read:

            Brew It Yourself Weight-Loss Potions –

                        Household Ingredients and Easy Kitchen Preparation Pg. 5

            Mood-changing Nail Polish- Connect with Yourself

                        Tense, Fickle, Amorous... Don't Guess... Act! Pg. 17

            Witches Speak!  Witch Weekly Survey Results

Top 10 Romantic Interludes that Wizards Wish They Knew! Pg. 22

"Eureka," Severus said softly, quickly turning to page 22.  Normally he threw the droll pathetic rag that masqueraded as a periodical in the trash, but Bill Weasley advised him that the magazine was a gold mine of information.  It was a literal map, the eldest Weasley sibling claimed, to into the hearts and knickers of witches.  He began to scan the article.  Number 10 was spontaneous romantic picnics.  That much he knew and if he recalled, the same topic was also covered in a back issue.  He frowned and considered for a moment that the magazine probably reused the same articles; simply rewriting them so they would sound fresh; adding just enough copy and spinning the headlines to make the average reader (who Snape considered to be at best a dunderhead and at worst hopelessly feeble-minded) think that they were receiving brand-new information.  He laid the current issue he was reading on his lap as he fished in the drawer for a prior issue to confirm his suspicions.  Digging through the pile he unearthed the Playwizard and laid it to the side as he searched for the other Witch Weekly.  The ample witch (who was now a blonde), winked at the professor as she slowly and seductively began unbuttoning her blouse.  He watched for a second and then noticed the copy written on the left hand side of the cover that read:

            The Secrets to a Witch's Desires

                        Ten Simple Things You Can Do to Guarantee Endless Nights of Shagging...

"Pity that there isn't an article on getting them to sign contracts," Severus said under his breath, "but this is a start."  Being the astute researcher, however, he could see the value of double-referencing his work and concluded that the ideas that showed up in both articles were more than likely those with some merit.  He glanced up again to the class, his black eyes taking a quick inventory of the situation.  Satisfied that the students were otherwise safely occupied, he picked up the Playwizard, put it on his lap, and turned to the page.  He was quite adept at covert research; it was a skill he honed as a first year when Lucius Malfoy, several years his senior, used to sneak books out of the Restricted Section of the library for him.  Quickly scanning the two articles, he came across the first common entry:

            Spontaneous Nature Walks:  A Cozy Blanket, a Well-Stocked Picnic and a Stop by a Bubbling Brook...

Severus snorted and shook his head, recalling his own personal disaster.  Two weeks ago he tried the very same thing-- a suggestion of Weasley's as well.  During a particularly fine, but not terribly sunny, Saturday afternoon, he had convinced Ruedella to help him search for certain potions ingredients in the Forbidden Forest.  It was not entirely a ruse, as there were certain items he did need.  He offered a fine picnic lunch away from the prying eyes of students and a promise not to do any transfiguration in exchange for her assistance.  As a precaution-- although he was quite confident that the two of them could defend themselves or escape from just about anything they would encounter-- he had asked Hagrid if there were any unusual goings-on in the Forest, with particular interest on the Centaurs.  Hagrid had shook his oversized head, his vigorous movements shaking a few odd crumbs of food and Merlin-knows what else from his beard, and assured him that all was fine and he had not seen anything particularly large nor dangerous in quite some time.

Their expedition went well and in a relatively short period of time he and Ruedella were able to locate a substantial quantity of wild and exotic herbs.  She was a rather quick learner, a quality he recalled her having as a girl, and he was able to teach her several harvesting techniques; including the rather complicated process of picking Drachenvine, a poisonous and aggressive plant the Professor Sprout did not grow herself.  By mid-afternoon their tasks were complete and he had pulled out the blanket and set up afternoon tea, allowing them to enjoy a snack as they sat and took final inventory.  

After carefully packing away the last of the plants in a box he had brought, he was about to scoot closer to test her receptiveness to some more intimate activities when the thunderous sound of snapping trees and a growl came from behind them.  They both leapt to their feet, he drawing his wand putting himself between Ruedella and the noise.  They both watched as a huge human-like form, at least sixteen feet tall, lumbered into the clearing.  When it saw them, it bellowed "Grawp!" and jumped up and down, in what appeared to be excitement.

It was then that he realized that Hagrid was right-- there was nothing unusual in the Forbidden Forest as the huge giant the Gameskeeper called a brother had managed to scare everything away.

The giant, apparently in a playful mood, reached down and picked up a nearby boulder in his large meaty hands.  Chuckling, the giant lobbed it at them—playing catch, one could presume.  In a quick reaction, before Severus could think twice, he cast a spell in defense.  The violent red light caught the huge rock in midair and shattered it; the force of the spell sent large pieces of the debris back at Grawp, one striking the giant squarely in the head, knocking him out.  The thing crashed into the ground, the sound not less that hearing the largest tree in the forest fall, causing the ground to rumble in the wake.  In the commotion, Ruedella tripped backwards and, in her attempt to steady herself, she grabbed at his sleeve causing him to lose his balance as well.  The two tumbled onto the blanket, he awkwardly positioned on top of her.

Had it not been for the unconscious giant only fifty feet away, their situation would have been better received.  But, as timing would have it, Hagrid bounded out of the forest, apparently in reaction to the noise.  The Gameskeeper immediately locked eyes on them, and even at the distance, Severus saw a tinge of red creeping on Hagrid's face, just above his bushy beard.  Hagrid's embarrassment was only short lived, as it would have been hard to miss the large unconscious mass not far from him.  The worst part of the event, Severus recalled, was the debriefing in Dumbledore's office when Hagrid gave his account of what he saw, colored by the half-breed's excitable imagination.  And, for as long as he would live, the Potions Master would never forget Dumbledore's and McGonagall's reaction when Hagrid blurted out in his broken baroque: 'An' I stumbl'd out ah the woods an' saw'er Professors Snape and Lestrange... err... I saw'er Professors they were...err... Ahem....Professor Snape was on top 'o Professor Lestrange...err...you kno' getting along nicely, as they'd say...'.

And, every day since, every faculty member he spoke with had made it a point to work in the phrase 'getting along nicely' into any conversation they had with him.

Shaking the memory, he scanned the articles again, gleaning a few other ideas and seeing how he could convert them into something that was at least passable, and with how events were progressing, certainly not lethal.  Noting that the full moon would be out high tonight, as its ascension just started an hour or so before, he devised a quick plan.  'Spontaneity,' he mulled over Weasley's advice, hearing the younger wizard's voice in his head, 'make witches believe that then you're always thinking of them.'  Throwing the magazines in the drawer, he wrote a quick note and summoned a House Elf to deliver it.  As the elf dissappeared, the wizard thought of something else and re-opened the drawer to retrieve the same two magazines again.  He flipped through them and perused the information until he realized that someone was watching him.

"Miss Weasley!" Severus shouted at the teen, "How dare you sneak up on me!"

"I did not wish to disturb your..." Ginny looked down on the floor, as Harry warned her about making eye contact with Snape, "...research.  I just arrived and...err... I was waiting for an appropriate break point.  You should know, sir, that McClelland's potion is a deep purple.  I believed you mentioned that poisonous gas would emit if..."

"Fine, fine," he said tossing the magazines once again in storage and then kicking away his chair.  He rushed over to McClelland's cauldron; fortunately the girl had enough sense to add some additional beetle wings to reverse the reaction.  After taking some points, and satisfied that the girl's temporary solution would do, he stalked around the tables, staring at each cauldron in turn.  Taking out a pocket watch, he studied the time...yet another two hours to go.  He cringed and then turned to retreat back to his desk.

Before he made it to the center aisle Peeves the Poltergeist screamed through the ceiling and plowed through his body, giving him the cold shivers.  "RUN, HIDE!  A WEREWOLF IS LOOSE IN THE CASTLE!" the entity screamed as it zoomed around the room and then, just as quickly the thing disappeared through the wall; odd behavior as the poltergeist would normally try to tip a cauldron or two before the Potions Master took aim with his own wand or summoned the Baron.  

"Silence!" the professor bellowed at the class.  "Attend to your cauldrons!" he barked at the chattering students.  Retreating back to his desk, he was about to take his seat when, through the dungeon door came an odd, bone-chilling sound.  A howl.  It was apparent that the sound came from within castle, using the granite walls to carry it.  It certainly did not, as Severus could tell, come from the outside and for once, the Potions Master feared, the poltergeist was not playing tricks.

~***~

It was a quiet Thursday afternoon and the late September sun was starting to dip below the nearby mountain ridge.  Ruedella's classes were done for the day and she decided to head through the castle to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  She was quite sure, but not entirely positive, that Weasley was also done for the day, but she did require a book she had lent the wizard and did promise McGonagall that she would drop it off before dinner.  As she hopped rather ungracefully from the landing onto a moving staircase, she nearly fell backwards in surprise as a House Elf popped into view.  The creature, realizing what it had done, grabbed the witch by her teaching robes, pulling her forward.  Regaining her balance, Ruedella clutched the railing and was preparing to give the odd little gray elf a swift kick off the stairs into the chasm below when the creature held up a scroll.

"Professor Snape asked me to deliver this to you," the Elf slammed the scroll into her hand and quickly disapperated before Ruedella could react.

Noticing Severus' precise handwriting on the outside, she situated herself on a more stable landing and opened it.  The note was short and to the point; a basic invitation to his rooms for some wine and conversation.  Barring, of course, if she had any other commitments.  Deciding the invitation was satisfactory (and an improvement from the general commands her normally barked out), she pocketed the note and would accept it later, probably at dinner.  Seeing how their last two rendezvous went, her morbid curiosity wondered how this one could go dreadfully wrong.  Given that, how could she resist?

"Severus," she sighed his name as it rolled off her tongue, careful not to say it too loud lest it carry to overhearing ears.  It was a powerful name, an appropriate name for a man on the cusp of being a Dark Wizard.  He was moody, nearly indecipherable, yet at the same time she was drawn to him—not unlike when she was a girl.  She continued to walk, finally reaching the safe and unmoving hall, as she recalled those long evenings years ago in the Slytherin Common Room.  Those nights when she forced herself awake to study while Severus sat in a nearby armchair, his face buried in a book while the rest of the students had retired hours before.  She remembered him as a thin, scrawny boy with a sharp wit and even sharper tongue and his boyhood knowledge of the Dark Arts rivaled the then DADA instructor himself.  There was something about him, dark, mysterious...a tragic soul who occasionally found comfort with a small, equally scrawny girl who by most accounts should have been in Ravenclaw.  But the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin because, as it whispered in her ear her first day, it felt that her time there would benefit her inevitable path in life.  Her lids grew heavy remembering those numerous, uncountable, 3 am sessions when she would timidly clear her throat and ask him a question about Herbology or Potions (often already knowing the answer), only so that he would put down his book and help.  

She recalled the Halloween party at the Malfoys nearly twenty years earlier and how the rose bushes and a warming charm made a comfortable enough atmosphere for two young adults, one just out of his teens, to snog and fondle each other in a clearing between the bushes.  His body pressed down on her as they lay, entirely clothed—although they were working to remedy that.  His mottled kisses on her ear and the scrape of his teeth on her neck that made her arch her back and open her legs invitingly while his deep voice whispered in her ear the appealing suggestion that they steal off into the mansion to find an unoccupied guest room.  But the romantic rendezvous ended suddenly as the blinding light and the sharp pang of Rodolphus' stinging hex he blew apart the bushes during his search.  It was fortunate that her uncle, Lucifer, was present otherwise the wounding spell Rodolphus used on Severus could just as easily have been an Unforgivable.

Their time together over the summer was too stressful to even remotely be considered to be romantic, and Severus was not one who took to the subtle arts of courtship.  During those weeks, her mind was preoccupied-- terrified that Rabastan or Rodolphus would find out her cowardice or that Severus would eventually turn her in should she continue to refuse his offer.  However, Severus kept to his promise and provided her sanctuary; leaving her remaining time at the Black Mansion to focus on her work, coordinating elves, and consulting designers.  There were no flowers, no picnics, and no overt advances; and until nearly the first full week of classes had passed she had thought that the wizard had abandoned the pursuit and simply failed to inform her.  

His unwillingness to leverage his position, threaten, or blackmail her was perhaps the one main indicator that his offer might have an underlying element of sincerity.  That resonate fact plus the reality of their brief affair those years ago swirled in her mind, whispering to her that perhaps she was misguided.  After all, the voice reasoned, it would make sense to start off where they left off.  It reminded her that it had been some time since she enjoyed a wizard's touch, the stroke and precision that only a man could deliver.

Further down the corridor, she could hear Flitwick's high-pitched voice echo off the stone walls.  Her curiosity piqued, she made her way towards the sound, stopped, and peeked her head into the Charms classroom.  It was a sixth year N.E.W.T.s class she assumed, noting the attendees a few of whom she had as students as well.  She leaned against the entryway, apparently unnoticed, as the diminutive demi-elf (or that was her current theory) taught the students animation spells.  She watched the classic animation spell, the self-sweeping broomstick, and she marveled on how the broom flew through and tidied up the room at the Charm's Professor's simplest command.  Knowing from experience the chaos that would ensue once the Professor turned the class over to do practicum, she quickly exited and resumed her journey down the hall.    

Rounding the corner, she could see the D.A.D.A. classroom up ahead.  Judging from how Weasley's voice carried, she judged that the door had to be open.  "Damn," she said softly, as she was not particularly keen on making another trek back later that day.  She quietly leaned forward, just outside the entryway, peeked her head around and listened in, hoping for a lull or a practicum time where she could quickly pop in, request the book, and do so with limited disruption.  Fortunately she was in no particular hurry so she could wait if necessary.

"Professor!" Weasley nearly hollered, his voice amplified off the granite walls.  "May I help you?" 

Ruedella grimaced and rounded the corner until she stood fully in the entry.  "My apologies, I was hoping for a good break point," she started to explain as she took a few slow paces through the doorway.  "I did not mean to interrupt."

"No mind," Bill said pleasantly enough, waving her in.  "Just explaining the _Riddiculus_ spell to the third-years here.  And, don't worry, you were very discreet.  Just being raised in a big family you get a second sense when someone is listening in.  How may I help you?"

"The book..._Runes and Defensive Spells,_" Ruedella said, "When you get a chance.  I need to look up something and if you are done, Professor McGonagall would like a turn with it..."

"Sure," Bill said, "I am done and was meaning to send it back... just did not get around to it."  Addressing the class, he instructed, "Students, please get into groups of two and line up against the wall.  With your wands put away, practice the spell.  Like I said, think of your worst fear and then something funny.  When you're ready, yell out the spell—again with wands put away—like you mean it.  Now, keep on your toes because I found two Boggarts and I don't know exactly what will happen when you put to Boggarts together." Bill said the last with a wink and a semi-false sense of warning.

"I would imagine, Professor Weasley," Ruedella suggested, "that you would get more Boggarts."  She returned Bill's snort and smiled a little as the children began to giggle.

"Well, Professor," Bill nodded, "If you could keep an eye on things, I'll just pop into my office..." With a quick turn and a few paces, Bill walked into his office.

Taking their cues the students, a class of third year Hufflepuffs, obediently rose from their chairs and went to the far left wall.  The soon classroom echoed with 'Riddiculus' over and over, until the word blurred into a sound menagerie of hard 'R's and extended 'S's.  Ruedella observed for a few moments and then began to look around the room.  Spying an unusual display of artifacts on the far side, next to a large armoire.  She walked over and was admiring the various amulets, divination stones and other items until her concentration was shattered by a high-pitched cackle.  She turned quickly on heel towards the noise and saw Peeves swooping around teasing the children and trying to steal their wands.  Pulling out her own wand, she raised her arm and fired a warning spell in the air to get the poltergeist's attention.

"Peeves!" she commanded, "You know very well that you are not permitted during class..." She stopped and smiled triumphantly as the poltergeist stopped and hovered in mid air, it's pallid, translucent face sporting a most serious expression as it looked over to her.  She silently congratulated herself in getting the entity's attention in such a short period of time; a feat even the Bloody Baron would be proud.  But, she then noticed, it wasn't just the poltergeist that looked terrified, the students did as well, so much so that only a few could manage enough courage to quiver their lips.  Perplexed, Ruedella was about to ask, when the moaning creak of a hinge told her that their source of fear was not her, but what was behind her.

~***~

The sound wasn't exactly a shriek...or a howl... but a combination of anger, pain, terror and horror into one ear-splitting roar that rushed into the room as a relentless tsunami of bone-chilling sound.  The brooms crashed to the floor, as the students' concentrations were shattered by the wail, the sounds of wood crashing onto the floor muted by the horrid screams.  Panicked, the most of the students instinctively ran to the far corner, while the rest stood their ground looking to one another to see if someone knew exactly what it was.  Flitwick, in a display of energy, bounded over his stack of books and ran to the door, yelling over the shrieks for the students to stand back.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley huddled together.  Hermione looked at Harry and then to Ron. "It can't be," she said.

"What?" Harry asked.  "Do you know what it is?"

"I bet the Death Eaters are behind it," Ron said loud enough to be heard over the terrifying noise.  "They let something in here..."

"It's a werewolf," Hermione said, "the sound...not quite entirely animal...I'd say it was near fully grown."

"And since when have you been an expert on werewolves," Ron balked, "getting pointers from Remus?"

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed, realizing the likely source of the sound.  "Snape didn't give him... I bet..." Harry said, panic breaking his words and thought.  "I know that I could talk to him, calm him..." Harry sprinted towards the exit and in a swift athletic movement jumped over Flitwick's head and through the door.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed as she watched her impulsive friend speed towards the dangerous, lethal-sounding, bellows.  "Harry, he won't know it's you..." she yelled as she too ran towards the door, but was grabbed on the wrists by her Professor.

"Coming from the D.A.D.A. classroom, I would venture," Flitwick said with a squeak.  "Professor Weasley can handle it, I suppose..." he said the last with some confidence, but that was shaken as they could hear human screams coming from the same direction.  Pulling himself together, the Professor hopped up on a table.  "Malfoy, Parkinson, escort the group to the far stairs.  Ravenclaws and Gryffindors I feel you can proceed safely to your common rooms and dorms as the sound appears to be in the opposite direction from there.  Slytherins, you as well – take the back stairs to the dungeons..."

"Sir," Macmillan interrupted, his voice cracking slightly from the fear.  "It is... there's a third year Hufflepuff class in there..." A loud painful shriek and the sound of various voices screaming made him stop.

"Correction," Malfoy said indigently, "A third year Hufflepuff class WAS in there..."

"You are not being helpful, Malfoy" Flitwick snapped.  "Granger, Weasley... and you too Macmillan... come with me," he commanded with as much authority his small body could muster.  "The rest of you make a run for it!"

~***~

Harry flew down the hall and around the corner, the shrieks, wails and screams getting louder.  He pulled out his wand and gripped it tightly, his mind running through every spell he knew, finally settling on one which turned a werewolf back into his human form.  If it were Remus, his next stop, he determined, would be Snape's office to demand a few answers.

The sound suddenly changed from a howl-like shriek into a wail of pain.  He could hear another person scream out a spell, but one he had ever heard before.  As he reached the doorway, he could see Professor Lestrange, her wand pointed and a stream of red and violet energy streamed out as she chanted the spell over and over.  The witch was disheveled, her gray eyes reflecting her terror—Harry thought she looked downright deranged.  He looked up towards Bill's office and could see the students rushing into it as a disorganized, frantic stampede, effectively blocking Bill's ability to get through and assist.

The werewolf was large, but judging from the size, not quite fully grown, with brownish-red fur.  Its muzzle and other features were similar, but not exactly that of Remus' in that, Harry noted right off, it lacked gray spackle to its fur.  Realizing that the witch was torturing the creature, he grabbed her arm to break her spell.  She turned to him, stopping her chant, as the wolf then fell into an exhausted heap on the floor, her gray eyes penetrated Harry, blazing with fear, anger and hate.  She opened her mouth to speak, but the door to the armoire flew open.  Harry watched as a black haired boy, about his age, stumbled out, his face and torso slashed open and his left forearm and hand completely missing, blood spurting from the ragged, severed stump that showed through the boy's shredded outer robe sleeve.  Blood gushed from an open throat wound, drenching the Hogwart's uniform with blood, save for a tiny spot on the house crest on which Harry could make out the outline of a serpent.

"Sev..." Lestrange began with a whisper as she watched the boy crumple to the floor, face down.  A second later the hair turned from a matted black to that of a shaggy brown, causing her to wail again at the sight.

"Professor," Harry said, "it's just a Bog..."

Before he could finish, Lestrange emitted a bloodthirsty scream and raised her wand again, pointing it at the werewolf-boggart who was now getting back on its feet.  Harry could hear her scream something, but he was too busy trying to stop her to hear.  As he started to step in front, he felt a strong invisible pull on his body, causing him to lurch backward involuntarily out her spell's path.  He reeled as he saw the bright green light, his mind immediately flashing back to the end of his fourth year and Cedric Diggory's cold lifeless eyes.  

He fell to the floor hard, but the fall fortunately knocked him back to his senses.  He quickly sat up and looked around.  The one boggart that took werewolf form was dead.  The creature's waning magic slowly transforming the body of the wolf into that of a grayish mass.  He was always curious on what a boggart actually looked like, although he was hoping the circumstances would have been slightly different.  The second boggart, the one that assumed the form of the boys, slithered back into the cupboard.  Lestrange had fallen to her knees not far from him; her wand slowly rolling away.  She was bent over with her forearms on the floor and her head resting on them as she sobbed, her back heaving up and down as she wailed.  He then looked over to Bill's office and saw that the students began to back away from the door as Bill frantically pushed his way out and then dashed over.  Harry then turned around and saw Flitwick, Ron, Hermione and Ernie Macmillan.  Flitwick's wand dangled between the small professor's fingers and his face ashen.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

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	11. No One's Fool

Author's Notes: This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.) 

Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them. I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot. Sorry this took so long, but I've had other commitments.  Hope you enjoy this little additional piece to the bigger puzzle.

**Note:**  I've re-posted chapter 10 because I noticed some rather major error.  Macmillon instead of Macmillan... that's what you get when you add something to the spell-check when you're half asleep.  8)  Sorry for that.

Oh, a little note while reading the comments.  Never assume that something is exactly as it appears or take this story entirely at its face value.  Severus doesn't know what he wants... he may have convinced himself otherwise, but he will probably, as usual, be one of the last to know.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 11 – No One's Fool 

McGonagall clutched the tartan tin between her bony fingers, passing it by the students and offering a shortbread cookie to each.  Checking their mugs and satisfied that each were brimming with warm hot chocolate, she took her own seat and sat silently as the teens wrote, only the sound of scribbling quills and the crunch of cookies rising above the soft crackle of the nearby fireplace.  After a few minutes, Hermione, Ron and Harry finished, rolled up their scrolls, and handed them to her.  

"I realize," she said finally, breaking the silence, as she collected the scrolls in turn, "that this is very difficult and shocking.  I appreciate your statements.  Please understand that I did not wish to be insensitive, but it was important to get your input as to what transpired before we discussed it."

"I've seen worse," Harry said with a shrug.  Although he was trying to downplay the event, he could tell that his comment, however true, unnerved the elder witch.  "Err... yes, it wasn't something I would not like to see again."

"I see," McGonagall said, her voice tinted with a sense of regret.  She unrolled each scroll and quickly scanned the contents.  After she finished, she noted, "Harry, Ron and Hermione said that they really did not see anything because you and Professor Lestrange were in their line of sight.  However, they did say that you did step in front of Professor Lestrange's spell.  I cannot help but to think, Harry, if it were not for Professor Flitwick's quick thinking this unfortunate event would have been an absolute tragedy."

"I was stupid," Harry agreed.  "Any dolt knows not to throw themselves in front of a person's wand.  It was apparent that she was going to do something..."

"It was an Unforgivable," Hermione chimed in.  "That is by far the worst spell that..."

Harry turned to his friend.  "'Mione, I really believe that Professor Lestrange thought it was a werewolf.  It was odd, like she was having a flashback.  When she saw the second boggart, she just went off her rocker."

"It was a werewolf then," McGonagall said with a quick nod.  "The boggart had indeed took the form of a werewolf..."

"Everyone knows that, Professor," Harry said.  "I mean, the sound... that was the most convincing boggart I have ever come across."  Harry took a deep breath, "Listen, I will say that she is probably not my favorite person, but I can only be fair and say what I really think I saw."  In reality, Harry considered, he really did not know the woman, but the fact she was there with Snape evicting him and the others from Sirius' house did not sit well with him.

"The second boggart," McGonagall inquired, "What was it Harry?  Ron and Hermione said they could not see exactly what it was and you description lacks this specific detail."

"Err..." Harry fidgeted, "It took the form of a student, about my age..." he trailed off and then found the right words.  "It was apparent that it represented the werewolf's victim..."

"You don't suppose that the werewolf was Remus?" Ron asked, his mouth finally devoid of cookies.

McGonagall quickly cleared her throat and handed Ron the tin again.  "I would appreciate it if you would not discuss the incident with other students or between yourselves for that matter.  Unfortunately, there will be a formal inquiry given Professor Lestrange's choice of spells."  She put the scrolls into her desk drawer and then jotted down a few notes before turning back to them.  "The Headmaster is at the Ministry right now.  I would imagine that you will be pulled from class, one by one, escorted to the Headmaster's office and asked a few questions, simply to clarify what you've written."

"She will not be sacked, will she?" Hermione asked, "I mean who would teach Runes?"

"That has yet to be determined Hermione," McGonagall said.

~***~

"You saw the werewolf-boggart up close," Ron said.  "Was it Remus?"

"We were told not to discuss it," Hermione hissed as she nudged him.  "I would imagine it is so that we do not influence each other's testimony."

"I think so," Harry said, "Yes, I'm pretty sure it was..."

"And the other boggart," Ron probed.

"Ron!  Harry!" Hermione protested.

"Come in here," Harry motioned toward an empty room.  The trio entered and he closed the door.  "Remember last year and the Occlumency lessons when Snape kicked me out?"

"What does this have to...?" Ron began to ask.

"My Dad, Sirius..." Harry began, "they were pretty rough on Snape when they were in school.  I recognized..."

"That second Boggart was Snape?" Hermione interjected her conclusion and then clasped her hand to her mouth.  "No...no I did not ask..."

"It was," Harry said.  "In their sixth year, Sirius played a trick on Snape... I guess Snape was always following them around and well, Snape apparently had noticed that they were acting odd around the full moon.  Sirius had lured him to the Whomping Willow and my Dad found out and pulled Snape out just in time."

"Apparently not, judging by that boggart," Ron said sarcastically.

"Really Ron," Hermione said.  "Is Snape dead now?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" Ron replied tartly.

"Did you, your brothers, your father, have to die in order for your Mother's boggart to show them?" Hermione countered.  "Ron you know that boggarts prey on your biggest fear, and that isn't necessarily something you've seen."

"It was for me," Harry said.  "Something you fear can be something you've seen..."

Hermione said, "Regardless we shouldn't talk about it.  Obviously she knew about the incident and one of her fears is that Snape is killed by a werewolf."

"But why a young werewolf?" Harry asked.  "It was Remus, but I'd say a younger Remus.  Why not an adult werewolf, or any werewolf?  And Snape; why not Snape now versus when he was younger?"  He paced the room, "It makes no sense.  Why that particular combination?"

~***~

"Ruedella Annibella Malfoy Lestrange," Auror Engles repeated her name for clarification.  The Auror Engles was a large man in his late sixties with dark brown hair that showed just a touch of gray on the sides.  He was dressed smartly in standard Auror robes adorned with silver clasps and wore a black and silver Auror's cap on his head.  He sat comfortably in an armchair across from the Headmaster's desk.  His legs were crossed, with a clipboard resting on top as an inkwell and quill floated in the air beside him in easy reach for note taking.  

Ruedella responded with a noiseless nod of her head and looked nervously over to Dumbledore who sat calmly behind his desk.  She went to take a sip of tea, but her hand shook so much that the cup rattled violently when she picked it up.  Wisely she sat it back down lest she spill the hot beverage all over herself.  "You should take more calming potion," the Engles noted.

"I will be fine," she lied smoothly and motioned with her hand for him to continue.

"Same family as the Lestranges and the Malfoy on our 'Most Wanted' poster?" Engles asked; it was apparent from his expression that he already knew the answer.

"Her family has nothing to do with this," Dumbledore said politely, but firmly.

Engles snorted and looked up at Dumbledore and then back to his report.  "So, Professor Lestrange, according from your statement, you went to Professor William Weasley's office to retrieve a book.  While you were waiting, you proceeded over to inspect some artifacts, unknown to you that two boggarts occupied the neighboring cupboard.  The resident poltergeist caused a commotion, which you addressed and while your back was turned, one of the boggarts opened the cupboard and assumed a werewolf form.  You reacted," the auror cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, "by demonstrating the wounding and killing curses to a group of thirteen year olds."  He shuffled a few papers, retrieving one in particular, "Professor Flitwick stated that he had to use a summoning charm on one Harry Potter otherwise the boy would have been in the direct path."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's voice chimed in, "stated that he voluntarily jumped in front of Professor Lestrange trying to stop her.  I am not condoning the Professor's reaction, but taking on the charge or implication that she attacked a student is not accurate."

"I see," the auror replied, taking down a few notes.  "So, Professor, can you explain yourself?"

"I panicked," Ruedella said simply.  "I thought it was a real werewolf and reacted accordingly."

"There are far more effective spells to defend oneself against a werewolf," Engles probed.

"I suppose there are," Ruedella said, "That is probably why I do not teach Defense Against Dark Arts.  I was terrified, I snapped..." she rubbed her fingers across her forehead, "Of course I will write the parents of the children in attendance and explain and apologize for my rather unwitting and unfortunate choice of spells."

"But you are a trained Gringotts curse breaker," the Engles countered, pulling out another file.  "Not a single report of such behavior, even under some more exotic circumstances."

"Well, I never encountered a werewolf before while employed there," Ruedella said.  "When you are working, you are prepared mentally to expect things versus walking into a classroom and then all of a sudden seeing something you fear... A much different mental state, I suppose, when you half expect something to happen versus expecting nothing out of the ordinary to occur."

"The second boggart," the Auror nodded, apparently in some agreement, and then continued, "Harry Potter reported that it was of a boy, but he claims not to know who... I assume the form it assumed was not of a current student?"

"I would interpret it," Dumbledore said, leaning forward and peering over his glasses, "that she was so concerned over student safety that when she saw what she thought was a werewolf that her second fear, as manifested by the other Boggart, was it attacking and killing a student.  Although her choice of spells was regrettable, and something she and I shall discuss after our meeting, the evidence and reports seems to indicate that she was acting on behalf of protecting the students.  If the creature was an actual werewolf, and not calmed by an anti-lycanthrophy potion, then the use of deadly force would have been warranted."

"You do know the implications given that spell?" Engles warned.  "She wanted that werewolf dead.  It is the intention that powers the spell and the main reason why it is a Dark spell and an Unforgivable."

"Who would not want a werewolf who appeared to be mad and ready to attack not dead?" Ruedella argued.  "The underlying concern is when one becomes so lost that they can use the spell on someone who is an innocent or who is not a threat..."

"Very well," the Auror sighed as he wrote a few more entries.  "I can buy it if Dumbledore does.  Given you history and this summer's misunderstanding aside, you have been a model citizen with a solid and admirable work record.  Cornelius Fudge asked that, provided I did not find evidence to the contrary, that I make the recommendation that you be placed on probation.  Since I did not find anything overly compelling, I will support his recommendation.  The hard part will be yours, Professor Dumbledore, as her family connections will make keeping her here very difficult."

"We will handle that appropriately," Dumbledore said.  "I assume that outside of the various owl-writing I will have to engage in, that the Ministry considers this matter as closed."

"I have been instructed to report to Minister Fudge immediately to present my report.  Other than a witch who was scared out of her wits by a boggart, although she was more than a tad heavy-handed in her choice of spells, it was apparent she was trying to defend herself and the students.  The only wild card was her appearance of her Unforgivable nearly missing Harry Potter.  However, the boy did testify that he moved in front of her.  There is not enough other testimony for me to determine IF she had enough time to stop the curse... that is the timing of the sequence.  For now, I am satisfied with the explanations, although I daresay you will have your work cut out for you with the parents and guardians."  He paused and then turned to Ruedella.  "There is one last thing, and I am afraid that the request is influenced by your family.  Please understand that it will avert any press statements..." His eyes rested on her arm.

"Fine..." Ruedella snapped.  Humiliated, she closed her eyes as a tear formed in the corner.  Taking a deep breath she collected herself, pushing her emotions down and away as Severus had taught her.  With strong resolve she turned to the auror and held out her left arm and began unbuttoning her sleeve with her right hand.  She carefully pulled the cloth back and exposed the underside of her arm.  She tried to hold her composure and not glare at the auror who was inspecting her.  When the auror was finished, she rolled her sleeve back up buttoned it.

"Ruedella," Dumbledore interjected, "Auror Engles and I have some minor business to wrap up.  Why not take the opportunity to take a walk or retire to your chambers for a bit?  I will send an elf for you later."  He turned his head slightly towards the Auror, "I do assume you are finished."

"Yes," the auror said dismissively, waving his hand.  "If there is anything else, I will contact you."

~***~

The Whomping Willow was a tall, gnarled and knotted tree that sat on the far side of Hogwarts grounds in a well-maintained yard.  She wondered, as she sat just outside of the tree's reach, how Filch managed to keep the grass trimmed.  After a few moments of pondering she simply concluded that it must be a spell, because she knew the tree would attack anything above a certain size.  As she sat and stared at the tree, watching a few small branches bat at an unsuspecting bird that flew by, she could hear the soft crunch of the grass behind her.  Not responding, she continued her gaze, listening as the footsteps stopped and their owner taking a seat in the grass not far from her.

"I hear that you have the Malfoy temper," Severus' voice broke the silence.  Ruedella turned around to see the wizard who was holding a rare smile on his face.

"You know then," Ruedella said.

"Everyone knows about the boggart-werewolf and that you used a few choice curses.  The remaining details are in a sealed file.  I understand that the only other person who saw everything you did was Potter," Severus replied, curling his lip slightly when he said the boy's name.  "The Hufflepuff students were too busy trying to stampede into Weasley's office and Flitwick and a few others claimed that you and Potter obscured their view."

"Oh," Ruedella said, not knowing what else to say and certainly not willing to volunteer.  "Well," she started to get up, "I suppose that Dumbledore will be calling for me soon."

Severus grabbed her wrist.  "The elves are quite skilled at finding someone when they're summoned.  Sit."  He gently let go of her as she sat back down right next to him.  "Besides, Sprout is in his office having a rant."

"About me, of course."

"Of course," Severus said.  "I was in Dumbledore's office when she stormed in.  Apparently the howlers from the parents have begun."

"Oh goody," Ruedella said, "As long as they don't throw curses."

"They are from Hufflepuff parents.  You will be lucky if you hear an off-coloured phrase.  However, I do understand that you will have a few less third year students in your one class."

"Well, less grading, I suppose," Ruedella shrugged her shoulders.  "Pity you teach a core course."

"True.  However, if I taught an elective, I daresay that I would be unemployed.  Notice that I have far less N.E.W.T. level students?" Severus smirked.

"You require Outstanding on their O.W.L.S.," Ruedella said.  "Enigmus opened the class so that anyone with a pulse could attend and I am sure if the ghosts had filed a complaint, that requirement would have been waived as well.  Next year it will be different, I assure you..."

"Next year?" Severus noted with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean..." Ruedella stuttered, "The next instructor I am sure will have their own requirements."

"I see," Severus said.  "But, the important matter is that everyone is convinced that your little...lapse...was only temporary.  Dumbledore will give you his general lecture about being more careful and consider the fragile nature of the child's id and such nonsense.  Then he will tell you that you are otherwise doing a fine job and to keep your chin up and off he will send you."

"Ah," Ruedella chuckled, "Sounds to me like you are speaking from experience.  What did you do to deserve such a lecture?  Wayward hex?  Intentional poisoning?"

"I never poisoned a student!" Severus began to protest.

"Dumbledore gave you specific instructions not to?" she inferred.

"For a Headmaster who is supposedly hands off, he is particularly meddlesome when it comes to certain lesson plans."

"Poisoning then.  Who did you poison?" Ruedella probed.

"I did not poison anything.  I transformed a frog," Severus said, getting rather annoyed.  Seeing her face, he added, "Using a potion."

"A frog," Ruedella said, slightly disappointed.  "Now he just does not let you have any fun, does he?"  Severus responded with a slight, genuine chuckle, joining her.  Smiling, Ruedella scooted closer and put her head on his shoulder.  "I..." she said, "I just need held."

Severus paused for a moment, looking at the mass of brown hair on his shoulder.  He tentatively placed his arm around her with his hand resting on her shoulder, completely uncertain what to do next.  He sat there for a while, silent, watching as the witch caressed her fingers down the neckline of his vest until he realized they were very much near the castle.  He pushed her away, perhaps a bit too forcibly and announced, "This is inappropriate, we could be seen."

Ruedella sat up and crossed her arms, "No one comes around here.  It's too far from the main buildings and besides, everyone is probably at lunch."  Scooting back next to him, she looked him in the eye.  "I am not asking for over-zealous displays here, but some sign that you want to be with me."

"I walked out here, did I not?" Severus responded.  

"Yes you did," she replied and placed her head back on his collarbone.  "I apologize for last night.  I was going to accept your invitation, but..."

"Of course," Severus said.  "Some other time then, as I suspect this evening will be filled with answering owls."

"Thank you for dealing with Fudge," Ruedella said.

"How did you know?" Severus asked, tilting his head slightly to look at her.

"An assumption," she replied.  "Few people knew about the incident and given how early in the morning the Auror arrived—and he had specific instructions from Fudge—I concluded that you flooed him last night.  I hope it did not cost you too many Galleons."

"A few favors," Severus said, "but nothing more.  I did mention that you were my fiancée... simply to give him more of an incentive to..."

"Severus!" Ruedella jumped back.  "You know very well..."

"Well, then," Severus huffed, "He was going to put you in Azkaban until I could brew enough Veritaserum to use on Potter and the others to verify their testimony.  If you would prefer..."

"Fine," Ruedella said.  "Then you best work extra hard to convince me."  She looked at Severus who looking quite putout.  "Damn it Severus!  I am trying.  But some wayward spell, a giant, the fear of student's prying eyes, or the wrath of the faculty gossip mill either ruin our least bit of intimacy.  All I remember is the boy you once were and until a couple of months ago we had not seen each other for eighteen years!  I want to know what type of man you are..." She leaned forward and traced a finger down his cheek.  "Severus, what I saw was horrible and although I do not want to talk about it, I need you."  She closed her eyes and fought back the tears.  "No tricks, no games, no over-engineering the situation..."

Severus' hand reached out and began to stroke her face, his thumb gently tracing her mouth.  He watched the witch breath deeply, relaxing as he did such a simple thing.  She was not an attractive woman, but neither was he particularly handsome, and as he watched her sit there with her eyes closed as he stroked her skin, he realized that she asked nothing of him other than his touch.  She accepted the moment without thought to the consequences and without conditions.  He felt her warm, soft, skin as his other hand cautiously sneaked up to her waist.  The last time he was this intimate was when they were young adults snogging under the bushes; it was different then, as the Fire Whiskey dulled his mind and made him abandon his normal vigilance.  Now he was sitting here sober, caressing a witch in broad daylight – in plain view of anyone who would choose to pass by.

The St. Mungo's Ball, the picnic... he clenched his teeth as he recalled his own humiliation in front of all the students—his vain, stupid little attempt to please and entertain Ruedella and in the end making him feel like he was a fifth year again.  All that was missing, he considered, was being turned upside down and having his knickers removed.  The giant and his insipid half-breed brother who spread rumors around that he and Ruedella were having sex... resulting in hushed whispers in the faculty lounge that suspiciously stop when he entered the room.  For years he made himself distant, buried his emotions but most of all concealed his life from everyone else.  He was comfortable, insulated, elevated above ridicule and fear.  And, with the death of Sirius, he could finally position himself to receive the respect he coveted—the fame and importance that a wizard with such intelligence and abilities deserved.

But this witch, he looked at Ruedella who was now nestled against his torso, her head lying back on his collarbone as his arm wrapped lazily around her body, demanded that he cater to her, show his weaknesses and allow himself to become so obsessed with her to sign the damn contract that he willingly did things to be humiliated.  He knew, he cursed himself, not to do that magic... but he wanted to prove to her that he was just as capable and to do something...anything...to get her to put down that damn book.  He could not afford to be anyone's laughing stock, nor could he afford to let the Dark Lord get the impression that his interest in the witch was more than just business.  The more he thought, the angrier he became until he suddenly burst.

"You followed me!" he said tersely and pushed her away again.

"What?" Ruedella scooted back and looked at him.  "Followed you where..."

"You knew... about my humiliation...You followed me and saw Lupin as a werewolf.  You saw how Potter had to pull me out before I stupidly stepped into Sirius' trap," he seethed and abruptly stood up.  "Now, you wish to humiliate me further with these stupid little picnics and other silly displays.  You find me amusing, do you not?  'Oh, look what Weasley did,'" he mocked, his voice higher to imitate hers, "You goaded me to make a fool of myself!"

"I just pointed out what he did," Ruedella stood up and met his glare.  "I told you that you did not have to..."

"There is no better motivator to get someone to do something when you tell them they should not do it," Severus barked back.  "We were around students!"

"Why pick a place then that was occupied with students?" Ruedella shouted back, completely confused and uncertain as to why Severus was in a rage.  "You came to get me..."

"Because you are clamoring for attention!" Severus slapped back.  "I have resorted to reading Witch Weekly—and was caught by a student—in order to figure you out and to find stupid, amusing little things for us to do."

"Oh, I suppose picking deadly plants is in Witch Weekly?  Between the make up tips and the weight loss articles?" Ruedella sniped back.  "All I asked was that if we have a relationship that it is not a secret and an opportunity for us to become better acquainted—much better acquainted.  I am not asking for us to snog in the hallways!"

"Rather late for that, as Hagrid made sure to let everyone know—incorrectly of course-- that we were mating in the leaves!" Severus shouted back.  "If I hear the phrase 'getting along nicely' one more time, I will POISON the poor bastard who uses it!"  He roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her close.  "You should be on bended knee thanking me.  I saved you this summer from BOTH the ministry and your brothers, I gave you a roof over your head, help arrange this comfortable position for you AND, when your muddle-headed emotions nearly got a student killed, I smoothed things out with the Ministry.  Yet you insist that I play games, humiliate myself..." He let go of her and turned away, "Such an effort I am making for a scrawny, runt-like homely little witch as yourself.  Even Narcissa Malfoy would not be deserving of such attention..."

"Well, I suppose with your money you could BUY a wife," Ruedella wailed, tears rolling down her face as she struggled to yell.  "But no witch in her right mind would put up with such an ill-tempered troll for all the Galleons in Gringotts!"

"I am not a troll!" Severus yelled back.

"Oh, I am sorry... half-breed," she snarled, "you are, technically, a half breed as a result of your father's rather unfortunate choice of preferred execution methods.  Fortunate that the Dark Lord favors vampires as I am sure otherwise he would not tolerate your presence.  Perhaps he is being considerate, after all, you cannot help what you are.  But, then again, neither can Mudbloods..."

"You unsavory buck-tooth, crossed eyed maid!" Severus shrieked, "and I cannot help that you are so homely that your brother nearly offered half the family fortune to get rid of you!  So tell me, Ruedella, when you use those 'special' toys that you have hiding under your bed, do you moan Barty's or Regulus' names?"

"How did you..." Ruedella fumed, "You snuck around my house... you had no business!"

"I saved you from Azkaban," Severus retorted with a hurtful smirk, "such actions justified a few privileges.  Besides, I did not want the Aurors to find any contraband and my search had to be thorough.  I was not surprised, given that you probably could not acquire a wizard's touch without purchase..."

"Perhaps I should go and get a Mark myself so I can rape a few Muggles?" Ruedella said in a dangerously low voice.  "During the revel when you took the Mudblood witches, Severus, did you moan Lily's name over their screams when you came?  Or were you more reserved, more distant, using the memories as a base to pleasure yourself later?"

"I NEVER!" Severus bellowed, his voice echoing down the valley.  He bared his teeth, his rage teetering on uncontrolled, when suddenly a House Elf popped into view.  The creature stood there for a second, apparently waiting for the humans to acknowledge him.  "YES? WHAT!!" Severus yelled at the creature.

"Headmaster has requested Professor Lestrange," the elf squeaked but held its ground.  It had dealt with the ill-tempered professor before and knew that as long as Dumbledore was around, no harm would come to it.

Severus stood and looked on as Ruedella quickly paced up the hill to the castle.  After a few minutes he could see in the distance entering the side door to begin the equally long trek through the long corridors.  Taking out his watch, he noticed the lunch was nearly over and soon afternoon classes would begin.  He started to walk up the hill, somewhat relieved that he could start to reclaim his reputation given that he put the silliness behind him.  He opened and closed his hand as he walked, still feeling Ruedella's skin and warmth and remembering that, at least for a second, nothing else mattered except for her touch and the wholeness and ease he felt (for the second he forgot that they could be observed) when he held her.  

He stopped and held up his hand, letting his guard down just for the moment and letting his culled emotions, so professionally and expertly hidden that even he had to force himself to clear his own self-imposed mental blocks.  He allowed the emotion to surface for a second before burying it deep.  Clutching his hand, he forced it towards his side.  "I cannot," he said trying to convince myself.  "I do not," he said again, louder to convince himself before he entered the castle and quickly proceeded to the dungeons.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

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	12. A Slytherin Return

**Author's Notes: **This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.) 

I normally don't say much about comments – other than I appreciate them greatly.  Sometimes it is very difficult to respond without giving away part of the plot, but there's a few that I can make some comments. 

AmZ – I see you have this love/hate thing going on here.  :)  Trust me, I can write without being too contrived, but at the same time name me one interesting story that doesn't have some odd series of events occur that help smooth things over.  Severus and Ruedella do have a bit more than a few gropes in the bushes, as their history at Hogwarts shows.  After the next chapter, they will, unfortunately, have even more in common.

Louise – Rudy (or Della as she was actually called by her brother Rabastan), is getting a little sick and tired of Severus's rather disagreeable exterior.  It will get worse before it gets better.

Someone asked what the Weasleys are known for (skills from that Genealogy book) – I can only pose the question back – when was the book written?  Remember how Malfoy's are supposedly known for Rune Divination... then how can the Great-Grandmother (who supposedly married into the clan) have the talent? (More about this in this chapter.) It is a very, very old book and some things might not be completely accurate or have now manifested themselves in other families through inter-marriage.

Xikum – Harry's self-centeredness is a force of habit, as everyone else thinks that things are about Harry too.  I wouldn't blame the kid too much, as he is still hurting about Sirius.  He'll come to terms with everything soon enough.

Mystical Witch – Although I do enjoy the 'passionate Severus' stories, somehow, I just don't think they're very canon.  The man was a greasy oddball as a boy and is a greasy git now; he doesn't get a lot of action to hone those skills.  First step is to keep Della from walking out the room or turning him into something.

Oh, for those comments about Crookshanks and the spell.  It couldn't be that obvious since (at least in this story), Crookshanks is not a forced animagi.  

Chapter 12 – A Slytherin's Return 

One Month Later – October 25th 1996 

"The exercise, due next Friday, will be on Clarification," Lestrange paced the room.  "I will give a demonstration of the spell and technique used for this type of divination, but you will be graded on your own interpretations of your own divination for assignment."  She paused to address a student, "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What if we do not have specific divination talents?" the girl inquired, "would that impact our grade?  This is a Runes class, not Divinations..."

"I see that again today, Miss Granger, that you have a firm grasp on the obvious," Ruedella said, slightly annoyed.  "Simply focus on a person, anyone you know or do not—it does not matter—and then cast the runes.  Your grade will depend on how you interpret the runes given the configuration you have copied onto your paper.  I do not expect most of you to be right, or even close, to gaining insight into the people you are casting about, but there are limited interpretations of your runes.  Where they fall, their placement makes an important impact on their interpretation."  She looked over to her young cousin who was watching her passively, "A bit more interesting than a simple textbook assignment, would you not agree Mister Malfoy?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young wizard said and then glared at Hermione when Ruedella turned her back.

The witch walked purposefully up to the podium.  Next to it was a clean white table with narrow boards surrounding the edge.  Several feet above it a large white board levitated in the air.  It took Ruedella several days, plus consultation with Professor Flitwick, to devise this set up.  Whenever runes where thrown on the table (with the boards helping to keep the runes on the top and not tumble over the edge), a quick spell would projected the runes onto the board above so the students could see the configuration from any vantage point.

"If you do not have your divination runes now, I suggest you purchase them in Hogsmeade this weekend," Ruedella warned, "Wood is acceptable although anyone with natural talent," she looked at Draco and nodded, "should invest in silver or gold.  Yes, Malfoy?" She called on Draco who had his hand in the air.

"I understand that different types of rune divination require different materials," Draco said with a lazy drawl, "Silver is suitable for clarifications and can be used for predictive purposes, but to do any appreciable predicative work one needs a more...shall we say...obscure...material."

"And that is why, Mister Malfoy, rune divination for future events is all but forbidden.  Unlike reading the stars or having a precognition, a witch or wizard with this talent can ask specific questions; as such the future, in some cases, can be anticipated and possibly altered.  Also," she added, "such divination requires runes made from human bone.  Obviously this brings up more than a few issues."

"Is it true that Great-Grandmother Machivellia had such runes?" Draco asked again.  "I wonder what happened to them?"

"For clarification," Ruedella said, her grey eyes lock on her cousin's, "the runes you speak of were made in the late ninth century, long before the ban on their creation.  As for their whereabouts, I suggest you ask your mother, as your father, I understand, did have a small talent in this area."  Ruedella turned for a moment to collect herself and to grab a black suede bag that sat on the table.  When she turned back to the class she saw another student's hand in the air, "Yes, Mister Macmillan?"

"Aside from disturbing the dead, which is of course never a good idea," Macmillan asked, "why was there a ban on the creation?"

Seeing Draco hold back a snicker, she nodded towards the boy, "For ten points, Mister Malfoy, could you enlighten your classmate as to why these runes were banned?"

Draco stood up, smoothing his robes.  "The runes were made from human bone, harvested while the wizard or witch was still alive.  The younger the donor it is said the more powerful the runes.  It was common to use Mud—err—Muggle-borns for this task, as, well..." he looked at Hermione, an evil grin on his face, "it did find a decent use for them. "  He smirked as Macmillan fell back in his seat and Granger looked green in her face.  He added, "If Granger would like to help, I can demonstrate to the class what parts of the body the different runes come from.  A pity that she did something to fix her teeth as they were large enough at one time to make most satisfactory Gebos..."

"I think that is enough, Mister Malfoy," Ruedella motioned for him to sit down.  She held up the Rune bag.  "I need someone to concentrate hard on a person—anyone, a friend, acquaintance, teacher, I do not really care—and write down their name.  Fold the paper so I cannot see it and hand it to me."  She saw Hermione, who sat up front, hunch over and scribble a name and hand her a parchment.  "Thank you, one point," Ruedella said.  

She palmed the paper and poured the small runes from the bag into her hand.  They were fine silver runes with gold inlays; quite an expensive set which Rabastan purchased for her – a compensation for her assistance with his betting pool.  Setting down the bag, she fished out her wand and waved it several times over her hand making the runes glow with the magic she imparted.  With a sudden movement that made many of the students jump, she slammed the runes into the table-box and quickly retrieved the still folded paper and gave it back to Hermione, not reading the name.  With another wave and another series of chants, the runes shuffled on the table into their final resting places.

"Please copy the technique and the spells off the chalkboard," Ruedella instructed as she studied the arrangement.  Taking a few notes, she sighed and turned to the class.  Once she was satisfied they were done writing, she asked, "Miss Bones, can you tell me what you see?"

"Err..." Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff stood up, timidly.  "I am not really sure..."

"On come on," Ruedella barked, "I only use Unforgivables around third-years!"  She tried to smile, but her intended joke did not come across given she was tired, had a headache, and overall would have preferred to stay in her rooms today with some tea and a pile of old novels.  She looked back at the Runes, "I do admit that they are a mess, obviously I am not on par given what you see, but it is good practice."

"Err... the person Hermione wrote down has a father who comes from an old family.  The person's mother is a bit obscure, either the mother's family was Muggle-born or an old family that has fell out of favor... if I read it correctly."

"You are correct," Ruedella nodded in encouragement.

"The person, I think it is male..." Susan looked at the instructor who nodded the affirmative again, "escaped death twice.  Once when very young...an infant...another when he was a boy."  She cocked her head to the side, "I do not understand what the Eoh next to Feoh flanked..."

"That is the difficult part," Ruedella interrupted, anticipating the question.  "Literally, it means that he did not escape twice, but actually died.  There was some intervention to save him.  Not reincarnation..." she tapped her finger against her mouth as she studied it.  "Good job, two points," she said as she walked over to the table and began pointing with her wand.  "See here, in the center, this person because of the first attack, which they survived, is cursed.  Some sort of mark..." She pointed to another set, "their childhood was quite unhappy, quite a bit of bullying and want for basic things... Now over here," she pointed again, circling a few more runes with a highlighting spell, "He has a sense of loss...guilt.  He has lost someone he cared about a great deal because of his actions and has buried that loss inside of him.  I see a veil or a hint of darkness surrounding this person.  He could become a dark wizard and certainly a little slip one way or the other could do that.  As far as what is keeping him from this edge is love...I see a mother's love that saved him once, but I do not know when or how.  But there is another love that he denies..."  

Ruedella threw her hands up in the air.  "Obviously if any of you throw something like this, then I assure you I will be lenient on my grading."  She copied the pattern on a paper and then made multiples, passing them around to the students.  "Extra credit for those who can solve the lower left quadrant which I did not cover.  To get you started, although I caution that my initial interpretation may be completely wrong, it appears that this person should not be alive.  Their very existence has thrown off a timeline and what **should** have been never occurred.  Chaos.  Complete chaos.  I might be owling this to Professor Enigmus myself..."  She turned to Hermione whose face looked quite ashen, "Care to tell us who it is?"

"Err..." Hermione stammered, "Someone we all know."

"From the look on your face, it appears to be accurate given what you know about them," Ruedella probed.

"I think..." Hermione said and then bit her lip.  She looked over to Draco who was studying her carefully.  His eyes lit up in an apparent epiphany and he gave Lestrange a calculated look.  "From what I do know, there might be some things that lined up," she said, clutching the paper.  She stared at her instructor for a few moments, not wishing to answer the question and when the bell rang, she sprang from her seat, collected her items and nearly sprinted from the room.

As the students were leaving, Ruedella retreated back to the table to clean up the runes.  She carefully cinched the sack and tied a bow, answering when she heard someone behind her clear his throat.

"Yes, Draco," Lestrange said without turning.

"I believe, Cousin Ruedella, that you have a gift.  You did realize that your reading was about Potter?"

"I believe Mister Malfoy that you are to address me properly," Ruedella replied.  She was ambivalent towards the boy, although he did favor his father a great deal.  When his parents were held for trial she spent a considerable amount of time with him at her Uncle's mansion.  She doubted, however, that Draco would remember any of that.  Over the years she did attend the obligatory Malfoy functions and was a continual fixture until her mother's unfortunate death.  The Yule gatherings in particular were rather festive, with plenty of food, drink and general camaraderie as well as the occasional drunken duel.  Year after year she remembered Draco squealing in delight as Narcissa buried the boy neck deep in a variety of gifts.  She remembered his first broom, a gift her uncle, his grandfather, gave him when he was four and the resulting disruption as the boy flew around the enormous mansion, whacking the house elves with a Quidditch beater club as Lucius and Rodolphus egged him on and Narcissa fretted that the boy would get hurt.  During those type of occasions Bellatrix would sit in the corner, generally after a few drinks, and grouse how Draco would turn out to be a soft witch's boy with little to offer than a temper and a flair for spending money.  If Bellatrix were anything, Ruedella mentally noted as she sized up the boy, it was astute.  

"Well it is outside of class and we are family," Draco added.

"Then test your newfound protocols on 'Cousin Severus' and see how far you get," Ruedella replied.  "When you are asking me to pass the whipped potatoes at Grandfather Thuban's dinner table can you then address me so informally."

"You are not going to return to Black Mansion?" Draco inquired.  "Mother owled me and said that Professor Snape was planning a rather fashionable gala."

"Really?" Ruedella said, "I did not know."

"So you two did fall out of favor?" Draco probed.  "Although I heard from a source that Fudge claims you two are engaged."

"Fudge is an idiot," Ruedella said.  "With enough Galleons he would claim Muggles flew on brooms.  You, of all people, Draco, know that."

"I suppose," Draco said with an agreeing shrug.  "But back to the subject.  Mother would be quite keen, as would a few others in her...circle... in consulting with you."

"What insights could I lend about the present she does not know?" Ruedella asked.

"She feels that you are the one with Great-Grandmother's runes.  I had heard that you used them when you were a student..." Draco leaned forward whispering. "And she was told that Machiavellia taught you many things when you were a girl.  Machiavellia, Mother says, was not one to waste time on those without talent."

"I used the runes to predict Quidditch matches," Ruedella said in a hush.  "Nothing of consequence.  A true divinator is very rare and I daresay other than a few parlor tricks, I do not have anything to offer."

"Maybe I do then," Draco said.  "Teach me."

"I am on thin ice with Dumbledore," Ruedella shook her head.  "Over break we can talk, but not here."

"Hogsmeade then," Draco pursued.  "I can rent a room at Hog's Head as I am allowed to go to Hogsmeade every weekend now.  We will meet for an hour or two every Sunday."  Seeing that Ruedella was about to protest, he added, in a low whisper, making sure the nearby portraits could not overhear, "If you do not have the talents, then it is best to teach others in the bloodline who might.  The Dark Lord would only be pleased if..."

"Fine," Ruedella shook her head and waved her hand, shooing him away.  "You make the arrangements and set the time..."

Draco nodded and then strutted purposefully out of the room.  Not having a class soon, he headed to the Slytherin Common Room where he placed his satchel on an empty wooden study table.  Taking out his class notes, he magically made a copy and then sealed it.  Ruedella, he determined, has far more talent than she let on and a false sense of modesty (obviously a Lestrange trait, he believed) kept her from reaching her true potential.  Perhaps, he considered, this was why Snape had pursued her so but, Draco rationalized, the wizard had kept his distance from the witch for the past month.  The boy considered it for a moment and then decided it was time to send an owl to his Mother before his next class.

~***~

Snape walked through the castle towards the main faculty living quarters clutching a scroll in his hand.  "Stupid!" he thought, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He knew that he should have taken care of this weeks ago, but he had forgotten.  He stormed down the corridor as he berated himself for missing this detail; such forgetfulness was a luxury he could not afford.  Finally reaching his destination, he stood in front of the door and knocked forcibly.  He could hear movement on the other side; exhaling, he was grateful that he did not have to return.

"We need to talk," he said to Ruedella as she opened the door.  He jammed his boot in the crack, keeping her from shutting it on him.

"Couldn't this be done by floo?" Ruedella said as she tried to step on his toes to rid his encroaching foot.

"It could, but you have charmed your fireplace not to accept floos from me," Severus said.

"I must talk to Flitwick about this door then," Ruedella said, opening the door wider.  Severus nodded, thinking that she was about to let him in but quickly discovered as she slammed the door on his foot, that she had opened the door to harness more momentum.

"The boots are steel lined," Severus said, trying to hold back a grimace.  "Just let me talk to you."

"Are you going to apologize?"

"Is it necessary?"

Ruedella nodded, a scowl covered her face.  

"Fine," Severus said, "I will...inside."

The witch opened the door and let him in.  She proceeded to a large purple sofa and sat, motioning with her hand to a large wooden chair by the fire.  "I would conjure up some tea, but you will not be staying long."

"I need you to sit by me at next week's Quidditch match," Severus said.

"I need you to be sucked by a Dementor," Ruedella said, "But it seems that the Fates are not granting our wishes."

"The comments I made," Severus began, his face pained, "were unfortunate and uncalled for.  Understand that I cannot afford to have the Dark Lord or anyone in the circle believe that I care for you.  If they come to the conclusion that I am not what I seem, they will injure you in order to get to me."

"Fine," Ruedella said, not entirely convinced.  "Are you going to apologize for accusing me of making you look like a fool?  I was not the cause of those various misfortunes and poor timing..."

"Yes!" Severus said, looking at the mantle before facing her, "One was a unfortunate miscalculation on my part, the second was something neither could anticipate."

"I assume then," Ruedella asked, "that the contract has been cancelled?  That I am free to leave here?"

"I cannot protect you if you do," Severus said.

"I lived eighteen years without you, Severus," Ruedella said, "Besides, I find it tiresome to be in your debt.  I would rather be dead than your slave, wondering if I am worthy of your attention and when I do get close, you end up hurting me.  First, it was your comments to Evan Rosier, then a month ago your hurtful words.  I cannot live like that and I know that you are incapable of ever expressing yourself to me.  I had requested to Dumbledore that he find a replacement so that I can return to Gringotts after Yule break.  I understand he is interviewing several qualified candidates and Gringotts has lined up for me to go to Brazil."

"Brazil?" Severus asked, "But I though you would stay the year?"

"Wait..." Ruedella said, holding up her hand, realizing something, "Did you just say earlier that you cared for me?"

"I said that I could not afford to have anyone perceive that I care for you," Severus clarified.  

"DAMN IT!" Ruedella leapt to her feet and stamped her foot.  "We are in my quarters, the door is closed and Dumbledore could give a Centaur's arse!  If you can not admit that, without prying eyes and to me only, then there is no hope."  She walked over to Severus, grabbed his sleeve, and forced him up.  "I can understand your predicament, but last month, when you held me...you have no idea what that meant—then you tore me down.  You have my life in my hands, with a few choice words you can make me hunted, or have me rot in Azkaban.  I would like to think that you are not exercising those choices because you do not wish to.  Not because of my family, but even if I had 'neer a knut to offer..."

"It does not matter!" Severus turned quickly on heel and headed for the door, "You have decided to go to Brazil..."  He reached for the handle, recoiled as the knob was white-hot.  "What mischief is this, witch?" He barked.

"Answer me!" Ruedella shouted.  She made her way over to Severus and grabbed his left arm, quickly pulling back his sleeve.  "I accept this," she pointed at the brand on his forearm.  She pointed at his hair, "I accept this, I accept your intellect, I accept most of you...but what I cannot accept," she pointed to his mouth, "is the disconnect."  She closed her eyes and sighed, "This does matter and that is why we are talking!  Damn! I knew I should have never accepted this fool's offer..." She looked back at Severus, directly in his eyes.  "Do you want me to stay?"

"It does not matter," Severus said and turned again.

"Do you not want to know my secrets?" Ruedella said, "I will drop all defenses and you can see everything you want.  In exchange, I ask the same of you.  If you do that, then I will stay.  You have enough on me that you can be assured that I will not divulge your secrets.  Really, Severus, I would have told the Dark Lord about you if I had the inclination or dropped a hint at Draco that you were playing both sides.  I want to see us out of this alive, but I cannot have you turn on me the minute I get close."  She paused, "I promised Dumbledore that I could never tell you something, but I cannot risk...no...never mind..."

"An ultimatum," Severus said scowling.

"Yes," Ruedella said, "but no more games."

"I thought you consulted the runes," Severus said.  "You should know what I feel."

"Then you will do it?" Ruedella said.  "It is more than a fair cop, as my skills in Legilumancy are poor, but if you trust me and drop your defenses entirely, then I will know..."  She took out her wand and set it one the table.  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, staring into Severus' black.  "You go first."

Severus stared at her for a moment, wary.  "Very well," he said, his voice dry.  He began his silent spell, easily penetrating into Ruedella's mind.  He saw her as a young girl, staring around her father's leg when they met the very first time as children.  He saw a Christmas party years later when she was about eight or nine and the sight of blood and screaming as her brother Rodolphus and cousin Lucius got into a fight and dueled in the Malfoy main parlor.  Then he saw the inside of her mother's chambers; judging from the state, the witch had just given birth that summer evening.  He saw Ruedella and Rabastan look on as Rodolphus, who was about sixteen, take a crying infant roughly in his arms with instruction from their father to drown the newborn squib.  The scenes streamed into her mind; images, sounds, smells...and emotions.  Halloween at Hogwarts when he gave her his candied apple and many nights studying when she asked him questions; he could feel the burn on her cheeks and the rise in hormones when his youthful self sat next to her.  Her and Almorrnea Nott sneeking in the boy's dorms and watching he, her brother, and the others shower.  He grimaced at the sight of his former self-- nude, scrawny and by every accounts a late bloomer compared to the other boys.  Another scene flashed to that of in his office—it was Karkaroff's then—she and Rabastan being upbraided for something; the betting pool he presumed.  The scene melted and then showed the inside the cavern leading up to the shrieking shack and her running as a large deer, its antlers prone, kept back a werewolf as she ran.  The cavern was splattered with blood and Ruedella clutched a piece of black, blood soaked cloth in her hands.  

The scene then changed to Dumbledore's office, the wizard looking older than Severus had ever seen, even when the Potters were killed.  She stood by his desk, crying, as she laid her wand on the Headmaster's desk.  The images changed to the requisition room and his own illicit, secret Dark Arts training, he standing behind her, helping her form a proper deuling posture and later smiling on as she plowed Avery into the back wall with a single spell.

Another image, of her sitting out in the back parlor of a fine estate, one of her Grandfather's, he presumed, where she talked with an aged witch as she threw brilliant white runes against a black table.  Ruedella smiled as the witch tutted over her approvingly.  Then the scene in the bushes during the Christmas party, her humiliation of Rosier's taunts, and more images of her later through the years pleasuring herself as she moaned his own name.  The scenes continued, various Gringotts duties and a few run-ins with exotic creatures, a few near-death mishaps.

He stopped the charm as Ruedella fell forward.  Catching her in mid-fall, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom and carefully laid her on the bed.  The event had been too much and with her defenses down, coupled with his skill, had caused her to black out.  He carefully removed her boots, set them to the side, and then pulled up a crochet blanked up over her.  He held his hand above her forehead, hesitating and then laying it gently on her as he stroked her hair.  His mind sifted through the images, his mind riveting to those where she was pleasuring herself.  He closed his eyes, seeing her nude body and her small breasts heaving as she climaxed, shouting his name into the empty bedroom.  He lifted his hand from her forehead as the last of her memories moaned his name.  He could feel it again, like last month, and he downed his defenses once again, smelling her scent—vanilla and strawberry shampoo he concluded—on his hand as the lingering warmth fled his fingers.  

~***~

Two Days Later...

Karkaroff could tell he was in some sort of decaying building as the musty, pungent smell of mold and rot permeated the sack that had been placed over his head.  He let out a muffled growl as the Death Eater leading him failed to mention they were going up a set of stairs and his toe jammed painfully into the edge.  "It would go easier for you, Dolohov, if you bothered to lead me instead of pushing me," Karkaroff snarled and was rewarded with a quick kick in the shin.  At last reaching a landing, he felt Dolohov tighten his grip and then heard the footsteps of another approaching.  He held back a growl when the other grabbed him roughly by his other arm.  The three wizards walked in lock step until they reached the end of the hall.  One let go and, from the sound, opened the door.  Karkaroff could hear the man's voice—Malfoy-- he recognized the suave polished upper crust accent of his former student.  A sharp jolt to his ribs made him stumble forward where another Death Eater, Malfoy perhaps, he could not be sure, grabbed him and dragged him across the room, depositing him near a hot fireplace.  With a quick tug, he felt the sack come off his head and as his eyes adjusted to the sudden, albeit dim, light, he saw a figure sitting in a rotting armchair in front of him.

"So the one I felt who was gone forever has returned...voluntarily," Voldemort's voice said smoothly, as if he were bored.  Karkaroff said nothing and watched as the large serpent, Nagini slithered around its master.  "Well..."

"I was a coward, my Lord," Karkaroff began, "I ran when you needed me.  But there is much work yet to do and I can make myself useful."

"Unless you can restore a destroyed prophesy, then I cannot see much use for you.  You have abandoned your post at Durmstrang where I had hoped, like you had done in times past, to recruit new members.  You are more or less identified as my follower, so your use as an infiltrator is minimal.  And," Voldemort stood up and walked over to Karkaroff, and began tracing his yew wand down the side of his captive's face, "There is the little incident of you turning testimony.  I think that Rookwood would want a few moments with you when we are done."  The room erupted in laughter.  "A good thing that Snape managed to get into Dumbledore's good graces otherwise I would not have a set of eyes and ears at Hogwarts."

"Snape has turned, I assure you," Karkaroff said, pleading.  "He is playing you for a fool my Lord.  He is gathering information as we speak and knows your every move..."

Voldemort laughed, "During your trial you say he is a Death Eater now you say he is a traitor.  I daresay that our poor friend is confused."  The Dark Lord flicked his wand at Karkaroff, smiling at the pained screams.  "Do make up your mind, Igor."

Karkaroff gasped as the curse wore off, he helped himself back up to his knees.  "You mention a prophesy my Lord, what is it?"

Voldemort turned on heel, "If I knew what it was, I would not covet it!  It is about the Potter boy.  According to Snape, the witch who made the prediction cannot recall what she said under the trance and because of Malfoy's bungling, not only was the prophecy smashed, but also no one heard it.  The only living person who knows it is Dumbledore and I cannot very easily just owl him and ask.  Which does remind me..." Voldemort flicked his wand at Malfoy and the tall blonde double over in pain, his screams filling the room as the other Death Eaters murmured.  "Do be more careful Lucius."

"Have you looked to other seerer?" Karkaroff asked.  "Other diviners?"

"True diviners are rare and the only one I know of with an appreciable talent is Malfoy's grandmother.  Unfortunately, age and the lack of her heirloom divination runes have diminished her abilities." Voldemort confided.  

Karkaroff sat for a second, and then turned to the various masked figured, "Lestrange!  Which one of you is Rabastan?"  He looked as a figure nodded.  "Your sister has a gift, you had a Quidditch betting pool... Your mother was a Malfoy, correct?"

Voldemort turned on heel towards Rabastan, "Speak, you fool!"

"Ruedella does have some abilities...but we were just children and the divination was of nothing critical," Rabastan began to explain.

"Her accuracy was so high that with a ten Galleon start, you made nearly five thousand Galleons in one season!" Karkaroff spat back.  He added, "There was another incident, only Dumbledore knows but had not shared with me, I believe she foretold a death.  I could tell something unnerved him appreciably..."

"No one died that year!" Rabastan protested.  "My Lord," he addressed Voldemort, "this is a desperate wizard who I feel will lead us down a futile path!"

"I do not think it so futile," Malfoy's voice rang through the air.  "My wife sent this, it was from my son.  During a class demonstration she prepared a rather disturbing reading about Harry Potter."  He levitated the papers over to Voldemort for his perusal.  "It appears that something is indeed wrong, my Lord, as the curse you used on the boy was **supposed** to kill him, not bounce back on you."  Malfoy took off his mask, "which means, my Lord, that all we need to do is 'set' everything right again.  In addition, she has agreed to privately teach my son her methods.  Whether he has the talent has yet to be seen.  But, I do know that my Grandmother did take time to teach her many things over the summers and the witch is not one to waste her time.  I know, as she refused to teach me."

"And why was this not mentioned before?" Voldemort spat.  "What exactly is Snape doing with her at Hogwarts?"  He glared at Bellatrix who began to giggle.  "Does he know about this?"

"I do not believe so," Rabastan said, "I kept this under wraps until, somehow, Dumbledore found out and made Karkaroff intervene."

Voldemort studied the drawings and the notes.  "Arrange to bring her here for a little test.  If she does have the talent you claim, Karkaroff, then I will let you live.  If she does not," he pointed to Nagini, "my pet is due for a feeding."

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~


	13. Date with a Dementor

**Author's Notes:** This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.) 

I hope you enjoy.  The story outline is pretty much done and although input is appreciated, please keep in mind that I am not going to radically alter the story or line.  I have always had full intention of using Harry more, but some of the backplot had to be developed first.  I suppose this is one of the downsides of posting a story chapter by chapter.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 13 – Date with a Dementor 

The breakfast session in the Great Hall was more lively than usual.  Today was Halloween and aside from the Halloween feast, the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend and first Quidditch match of the season put everyone in a giddy, glorious spirit.  The festive mood hit a high pitch as the morning owls swooped down from above, depositing letters, Daily Prophets, and parcels to awaiting students and instructors alike.

"Isn't that Hermes?" Harry nudged Ron and pointed to a fine off gray owl that perched beside Professors Lestrange and Sinistra.  Snape was sitting on the other side of the table, but the boys could tell that the wizard was looking at the owl as well, his greasy hair lay limp and partially obscuring his black eyes.

"I don't know," Ron said, looking at the owl.  "It does look like him, but Hermes was not very unique.  Why would Percy send a message here and to her?"

"Maybe to warn Professor Lestrange that Dumbledore is a 'crackpot'" Harry held up his fingers in a quote context, "and that I am 'dangerous.'"

"Yeah, maybe," Ron laughed.  "Hey Mione, there are hayrides tonight..."

"I cannot," Hermione sighed, not looking up, "this Runes homework is killing me."

"I thought you finished it this weekend?" Harry asked, pulling the paper away from her.  "This isn't it..."

"No, it's extra credit," Hermione said, her face covered by her long brown hair as she looked down, studying the paper.

"You are passing on a hayride for extra credit?" Ron sulked.

"Face it, bloke," Dean Thomas chimed in, "you are a lousy snogger."

"Well, you better not have perfected your technique!" Ron said, glaring at his classmate and then panning his eyes to his sister.  He turned back to Hermione, "So what is so blasted important to skip some Halloween festivities for a few points that you do not need?"

"Are you still working on that crazy thing?" Neville Longbottom said.  "I gave up.  You should see this Harry, it is about you."

"Oh good," Harry said.  "Who dies now or what tragedy do I look forward to?"

"No one, but I guess you are not supposed to exist and should be dead," Neville said offhandedly.

"That's nice," Harry said, stabbing his eggs with a fork, while waving the paper in his other hand, "It is reassuring to know that all this death and destruction that is in my wake should not be occurring.  I will start sleeping better, I assure you..."

"Harry," Hermione turned and looked at him, "Did it ever occur to you that everything around here is not about you?  What makes you think that this," she grabbed the homework from him and held it up shaking it, "has anything to do with you?"

"Really now, Hermione," Neville scoffed, "it is nice that you are not adding any more to Harry's plate, but the divination was apparently about him."

"THAT IS IT!" Harry shouted, quite annoyed and ruffled.  He again grabbed the paper from Hermione and paced purposefully up to the teacher's table.  He approached Professor Trelawney, who was talking with the centaur, Firenze, and slammed the paper in front of her.  "Is this nonsense?" He demanded.  The Great Hall bustle died down as Harry's angry voice echoed.

Trelawney took the paper and held it up so both she and Firenze could see it.  She studied it, turning it around and upside down.  "Mr. Potter, this indeed appears to be nonsense to me.  Obviously the work of some charlatan who is feigning talent to gain some attention and cause an uproar."  She let go of the paper as Firenze took hold of it for close inspection.  

McGonagall, apparently alerted to Harry's outburst, had since walked over and stood behind Trelawney.  "Is there a reason, Mr. Potter, why you see it fit to disturb breakfast and make demands from the faculty?"

"Hermione has this stupid project for ancient Runes, apparently some sort of Divinations that they are supposed to interpret..." He stopped as McGonagall held up her hand.

"Professor Lestrange," McGonagall called out and motioned with her hand, "Remind me again what you do teach?"  She turned back to Harry, "and five points for assessing a faculty's decision as stupid."

"It is simply a homework assignment," Ruedella said as she approached.  "The grade will be based on their interpretation of the runes, as I do not expect anyone to successfully perform a clarification reading.  It is far more interesting, and challenging of their skills, than some out of the textbook assignment."

"Well, that is good to know," Trelawney said, "as there are many who claim to have divination talents and simply pose to cause chaos and confusion."  She waved at the paper as began to laugh.  "Throwing a bunch of blocks on a table does not connect one with their inner eye.  It takes a true talent, a gift, to have any type of accuracy."  She regarded Ruedella over her over-sized bug-like glasses, "So Professor, how many accurate predictions have you made?"  Seeing Ruedella's angry face, she added curtly, "I thought so..."

"I do not believe," Dumbledore's voice said with a slight edge, turning everyone's attention, "that Professor Lestrange was intending to unseat you, but rather make for a more interesting homework assignment."  With a snap of his fingers, the paper flew over to him.  "Let me see," he said as he studied the paper.  "You did this Professor?"

"A student wrote a name on a paper and handed it to me," Ruedella explained.  "I do not know the name, but the current theory, given it was Miss Granger who offered the paper, is that it was of Mr. Potter."  She scowled and frowned, "Which reminds me that I probably should take some time today to figure it out myself.  It is so convoluted that I would hardly suggest anyone take it seriously."

Dumbledore studied the paper for a few minutes.  "I assume the red circled area has yet to be interpreted?" he asked for clarification.  Taking a few more moments, the room watched as the Professor summoned a quill, ink and some paper and began taking notes.  "I do enjoy a good puzzle," he said looking up, but the smile that he usually displayed was conspicuously absent.  After a few more moments he stopped suddenly and set down his quill.  He looked at Harry and then at Ruedella, slowly he folded the paper and put it in his robe pocket.  "I will work more on it later," he said.  "Kindly give Miss Granger the extra points since I have absconded with her assignment."

"Yes sir," Ruedella said, nodding her head.  She could hear an enthusiastic "Yes!" coming from the Gryffindor table.  Turning, she smirked as the young Weasley boy looked at Hermione with a triumphant smile on his face.

~***~

Harry lay in the hay and looked up to the starry sky.  It was a perfect Halloween evening; crisp and clear although to the east he could see that the bright stars were obscured by what appeared to be a dense bank of clouds.  He felt someone sit beside him.

"Beautiful night," Luna said with her normally chipper air.  "There is supposed to be a meteor shower at midnight, but it will be obscured by the rain."

"Oh, so it is supposed to rain?" Harry said simply, pointing his finger to a pitch-black part of the night sky where he suspected a front lay.

"Meteors used to be a sign of important news—for the good or for the bad," Luna said.  

"I thought meteors were the work of wizards," Harry said.  "I used to think they were simply space rock burning in our atmosphere..."

"Most are," Luna said.  "But either a very powerful summoning charm or an illusion charm works just as well.  Of course, the implication of important news would be invalid."

"If no one can see them," Harry asked, finding the conversation to be somewhat interesting, "then does the 'news' still occur?"

"Is this like the notion if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, then does it make a sound?" Luna asked, scooting closer to Harry.

"I guess," Harry shrugged.  "Well, I suppose that we have a half-in-half chance of good news," he said wearily.  "Could be worse...could be a comet."

"Well, that's unusual," Luna said, pointing to the moon.  The full moon occurred several days before and the waning moon, although not in full phase, was still rather larger and bright in the sky.

"Hmmm?" Harry said, distractedly poking the hay with his wand until he heard a loud 'Ow'.  He mumbled to the occupants underneath, "Sorry"

"A giant bat," Luna said.  "I've seen it around on occasion.  Not native to here."

"Probably a pet of one of the Professors," Harry said, sitting up some more.  He scanned the sky, but did not see the large animal.  It must have flew off into the darkness, he reasoned.  

"So, what was going on during breakfast?" Luna asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, grabbing some hay and tossing it.  "You know, Luna, I am getting tired.  I might go back to the common room and perhaps get some sleep."  He started to get up.

"Check in with the chaperones," Luna said, pointing to a small group of professors.  "Strange," Luna remarked, "Snape usually volunteers for these."

"Yes he does," Harry said, looking at the group and then the surrounding area.  Finally, he said, "Oh, he's here." He pointed down the hill where the moonlight lit up a white cobblestone path.  Snape was there and talking to someone—from the gestures and the occasional raised voice that carried through the chilled air, Harry surmised that the wizard in an argument.  Grabbing his omnioculars, which he had brought with to study the night sky, as it was easier to carry than a telescope, he looked through them.  "Just Snape and Lestrange," Harry said.  "Looks like they're arguing."

"Well, that's an improvement," Luna said.  "I overheard Madame Hootch and Professor Sprout talking..."

"Using Fred's and George's extendable ears again," Harry asked, grinning.

"I will neither confirm nor deny," Luna folder her arms.  "I will say that I have performed some field tests... my father is quite interested in purchasing several sets for his investigative reporters..."

"Oh, of course," Harry snickered.  "What did you hear?"

"That Lestrange and Snape haven't talked since, well...when she almost killed you," Luna said with a whisper.  "Rumor has it that Snape bribed Fudge to convince him not to take her to Azkaban until everything was sorted out."

"Well, those are valuable," Harry sulked, "what a news headline—'Fudge Takes Bribes.'"  He added, "You can have it on the same page as 'You can use Brooms to Fly."

"Next time, I won't tell you anything," Luna said, looking insulted.

"Sorry," Harry said.  "I just am getting a little tired of Fudge."

"Don't you find it odd that she isn't talking to him," Luna inquired, "I mean, if I knew someone saved me from Azkaban, then I'd..."

"Sometimes you don't want to be on the receiving end of Snape's good deeds," Harry spat.  "It sounds to me like gossip that got out of hand..."  He lifted his omnioculars to his face again.  "She's pulled away and is storming off."  Quickly pulling down the glasses, he hid them in the hay.  "Snape's coming back here."  The two watched as the Potions Master, in a fouler mood than normal, stormed over to a group of Professors.  Snape talked to Flitwick for a second, the smaller Professor nodding most animatedly as the Potions Master barked out a few commands.  The Potions Master turned, walked away from the group and into the darkness.

"Well," Luna remarked, "appears that there will be one less chaperone."

~***~

The Hog's Head was alive with festivities and throngs of people rushed in and out.  The crowds were reassuring, as Ruedella knew that she could slip in and out virtually unnoticed.  She paused by a large signpost, waiting for another crowd to walk by where she would join them and walk into the Inn under their cover.  As she waited a large bat swooped around, finally resting on the post beside her.  She looked at the animal, whose black eyes surveyed the surroundings.  Taking out a box of Bertie Botts from a pocket in her cloak, she fished around for a red jellybean and offered it to the creature.  

"I hope it is not cherry," she said.  It took it quickly and devoured it down.

"Giant vampire bat," Ruedella pronounced, studying the winged rodent.  "Must be a pet," she remarked, "as you seem to be rather tame."  She reached up and scratched the bat's ears, smiling as the creature leaned into her touch.  After a second, the animal turned and bit her.  "Ouch!" she yelped, looking at the thing. "You remind me of a potential lover.  One minute his is taking in my affections, the next he bites—not literally mind you, as I suspect Dumbledore would be quite put out if he did."  She looked at the thing to see if it had a tag or collar.  "Well, off to your Master," she said as she spied a large group of drunken witches and wizards stagger down the street making their way to the inn.

Ruedella managed to get into the establishment unnoticed and fought her way through the crowds to the backside of the inn.  There, through a chipped and peeling gray door, she walked down a hallway and stairs to the guest rooms.  She made her way to the second floor and to room twelve.  Putting her ear to the door, she could hear a faint stirring inside.  She held up her hand and knocked.  The door immediately flew open, a hand grabbed her wrist, and she was drug inside.

The room was very dark and the shades and curtains were drawn.  There was a single light from a floating candle in the far corner and she could make out a figure of a man sitting in the shadow.  She turned her head to the right and saw Rabastan standing next to her.  

"Happy Halloween," he said.  "You brought the food?"

Ruedella nodded and produced several small boxes.  She laid them on the battered bed and enlarged them.  "I purchased mainly canned and dry goods, as I did not wish to raid the Hogwarts kitchens and have the elves report it to Dumbledore," she said as Rabastan rummaged through the boxes.  He pulled out a bag of jerky and ripped it open, devouring the contents as if he were a starved dog.  Taking his share, he threw the remainder to the man in shadow, which when he moved to grab the bag, Ruedella noticed it was Rodolphus.

"Merlin's beard, Rodolphus," Ruedella said.  "Not even a hello to your sister?"

The man munched on the jerky and said nothing for a few moments.  With a quick movement he took out his wand, shrunk the boxes and placed them in a burlap sack.  When he was finished, he asked, "Why did you not tell us?"

"Tell 'us' what?" Ruedella asked.  "I am here because of Rabastan's letter.  Is there something wrong..."

"About your abilities," Rodolphus said.  "You never told us that Grandmother gave you lessons.  Lessons that she denied even her favorite Grandson."  He said the last with a bit of bitterness in his voice.  There were always 'issues' between he and Lucius.  Lucius was always the more handsome, the more clever, better at Quidditch, richer... and Rodolphus spent endless nights cursing his cousin's good fortune, normally after an evening of comparisons from insensitive relatives.

"Rabastan knew," Rudella said.  "But I do not see how I can assist."  She reached into her pocket, digging out a letter.  "The message was rather cryptic.  Don't tell me that you wish to defect and you want me to smooth things over with Dumbledore..." she shook her head, "Dumbledore is not dense."

"We do not wish to betray our Master!" Rabastan bellowed.  "I know that Dumbledore will not take a chance with us like he is with you and Severus... I just wanted to get you here."

"Oh," Ruedella said, realizing that she fell into a trap.

"Lucius told us about your clarification on Potter!" Rodolphus spat.  "How you tried to downplay it.  Even when you do not try you produce startling results!"  He took two quick steps over to her, roughly grabbing her arm, "Then, Karkaroff returns and tells us not only about the extent to which Rabastan profited from your talents, but that you did something that even disturbed Dumbledore himself.  He claims you predicted a death!"

"Karkaroff?" Ruedella asked.  "Severus said he ran off last year."

"He returned voluntarily," Rabastan clarified.

"Sounds like he is using any half-witted scheme to keep alive," Ruedella said skeptically.  She relaxed somewhat when she saw the glitter in Rodolphus's eyes.  He believed the same.

"So, what exactly, have you and Severus been doing at Hogwarts?" Rodolphus asked.  "All nice and cozy, warm, well fed and probably shagging each night.  We heard from a reliable source that you two are 'officially' engaged, but yet Grandfather claims he has not received the contract back."

"Severus lied to Fudge last month," Ruedella said.  "I...well...let us say I accidentally demonstrated an Unforgivable curse in front of some students.  I thought I saw a werewolf...and...well..." Ruedella shrugged her shoulders, slowly backing towards the door.  No doubt, she figured, that Rodolphus would have put anti-apparation charms up in the room, but probably not in the hall.  "He told Fudge that we were engaged so the Minister would not throw me in prison while Severus made more Veritaserum."

"Would he not keep a supply of that on hand?" Rabastan asked.

"He normally did, but Umbridge used it all up last year and Severus never had the time to make another batch," Ruedella explained, offering the little that she did know.  "With Black's death and all, he focused on the Mansion."

"And keeping your ungrateful hide out of Azkaban!" Rodolphus sneered.  "Severus is greatly favored with the Dark Lord!  He does things for him that even we do not know about!"  Her eldest brother leaned forward, his skull-like face glowing in the small whisp of moonlight that made its way through the tattered drapes. "I suggest that you not try the wizard and give him what he wants.  If he asks, the Dark Lord will force you..."

"We need to go, Rodolphus," Rabastan pointed to the clock on the wall.

"I will go then," Ruedella said, as she felt Rodolphus release her arm.  She turned and took a step to the door, but felt Rabastan's hand roughly grab her cloak and then a very odd, but familiar, pull on her mid stomach.

~***~

Severus apparated into the dark, overgrown garden.  Orienting himself, he saw a dozen other Death Eaters walk slowly towards a cellar opening in the side of a large house.  He rubbed his left forearm, the searing pain subsiding now that he arrived.  He swallowed and peered through his mask.  Fear, apprehension... he could almost taste the thoughts of the others.  "Good," he said to himself as he often relied on the heightened emotional state of the other Death Eaters to use as an additional shield against the Dark Lord.  Played right, with a skill he honed over the years, he would live yet another night.

He took several steps and felt a large mass plow into him.  He was not a large man, skinny and boney, yet he learned how to carry himself for fullest effect.  He quickly regained his step, turned on heel, eyeing up the brawny wizard who accosted him.  The gait was unmistakable.  "Watch it Flint," Severus growled in a whisper.  His former student stopped in mid track, bent his head and immediately swerved out of his way.

He walked down the laddered stairs into large cellar.  Judging from the size and height of the ceilings, it had been magically altered from the Muggle house to a more accommodating wizard space.   He stood on the far side, edging closer to a door that he suspected led into the Dark Lord's main room.  He surveyed the area, watching the movements and actions of those around him.  Flint, he recognized earlier, and he earnestly studied the walks and mannerisms of a few others whom he suspected to be former students—not just of Slytherin, he would be quick to point out.

The door squeaked open and he followed the closest Death Eaters into the other room.  Like the holding room, it was magically altered and its walls were made from roughly hewn stone walls.  At one end was a large roaring fireplace, large enough for three grown men to stand in it.  In front of the fireplace was a large chair that Nagini used like an artificial leather tree.  In the center of the room was a dark black table, with sidewalls, with Ruedella occupying one of the chairs while another unoccupied one was placed on the opposite side.  A stack of parchments, a quill, and ink floated by the table.  

A grandfather clock, obscured by the shadow, rang the twelfth hour, the chimes were deep and solemn and reminded the wizard of a death knell.  He watched Ruedella, her eyes fixed on the center of the table as she was breathing slowly.  A small smile crossed his thin lips as he watched her bury her emotions and clear her mind as he had taught her.  Rabastan's plea for help may have fooled her, but the night may yet be saved if she can navigate around the Dark Lord.  His job, he knew, was to wait for the right time to intervene.  Too soon, and his eagerness would be rightly misinterpreted.  Too late was, well, too late.

In a flash of blinding green flames, the Dark Lord disapparated in the center of the circle very near to Ruedella.  He calmly pushed his cloak to the side and pulled out the chair that sat across from her.  He leaned forward, his bony hands placed flat on the ebony finish and regarded her calmly with his red, snake-like eyes.  "Greetings," he said simply as he stared at her.

"Happy Halloween," she said as her gray eyes riveted to his bony, semi-human hands.  The surrounding Death Eaters laughed.

"No," Voldemort said, looking around the room, "Not a single one of you gave me such an honorable greeting.  Lack of gratitude, would you not agree?"

"I do not know enough to agree or disagree, but to simply concur with your assessment," Ruedella said wisely.  She swallowed as the Dark Lord smiled, his think snake-like lips parting to reveal uneven, ragged teeth.

The creature looked around the room. "My most loyal thirteen are to stay," he commanded.  "The rest of you go to the adjoining room and await until we are done."  About twenty or so Death Eaters slowly, and orderly, filed out of the room."

When the lower tier of Death Eaters were out of earshot, Voldemort shouted, "Wormtail, get the prisoner!"

Severus watched as the short chunky man waddled over to a side door, unlocked it and levitated out a disheveled wizard with white-gray hair.  The man was pulled next to Ruedealla's table and as they unbound him, Severus caught another door opening.  Severus held his breath as three Dementors glided into the room.

"A precaution," Voldemort explained, "to ensure proper behavior and a motivator."  Two Dementors slid into place beside Karkaroff and the third stood behind the witch.  He took out a parchment and laid it on the table.  "Quite extraordinary.  Done, I understand with out knowing the person, lack of ideal conditions and using silver runes.  It says that the boy should be dead, should not even exist and that his existence has thrown our entire time line out of kilter."  Voldemort showed Ruedella the parchment, pointing to a few key areas, his own notes written with precise handwriting in the margins.  "Let us say that I like what I see."

"We have no real idea that it was, indeed, about Potter," Ruedella said, her eyes darting to the parchment for a second and then back to the center of the table.

"Dumbledore's reaction today confirmed that, did it not?" Voldemort cocked his head, turning it so he looked squarely at Severus, nodding at the Potions Master.  Taking the cue, Severus removed his hood and mask, knowing full well that the circle of thirteen knew whom each other were.  The Dark Lord continued, "Severus is quite keen on getting details that Lucius's son either misses or entirely misinterprets."

"Apparently everyone knows more than I," Ruedella said, "which is hardly a first."  Another dark-clad figure, a witch from first appearances, approached the table and handed Voldemort a small green bag.  The Dark Lord tossed it to Ruedella who opened it, revealing fine gold runes.

"Indulge us, if you will, in a test," Voldemort requested to Ruedella, his voice too kind to be sincere.  "I mentioned to Bellatrix and Lucius what Karkaroff's fate would be.  Throw the runes and tell us what I said."  He added, when Ruedella balked, "I know that you cannot answer something so specific, but I think you can tell us a bit about what we have in mind."

Ruedella nodded and pulled out her wand.  In a quick move, the Dementor behind her reacted, putting a rotting skeletal claw around her throat.  She stopped and dropped the bag of runes and her wand on the table.

"My pet," Voldemort shook his head, admonishing the Dementor, "she cannot escape nor can she defeat us.  The wand is a required tool for the task I have given her.  Let her go."  At its master's words the Dementor let go of its chokehold and gently traced a finger up her cheek.  "Looks like it is fond of you, Ruedella," Voldemort said mockingly.

Ruedella palmed the runes and waved her wand over them.  Focusing on the query, she tossed the runes and with a few more flicks, they rearranged into a pattern.  Studying them, she glanced up to Voldemort who was nearly smiling.  Karkaroff was viewing the runes himself, but it appeared that his training in the area was lacking.  "It appears, that if it was found that I lacked the talent, Karkaroff would be killed."  She looked at the runes tapping on five and noting a specific pattern.  "If I had a talent he would live, but the fate would be worse than death.  You would spare his life but..."

"Close enough," Voldemort said and then turned to Karkaroff.  "It appears you will live."  He looked at Ruedella and held up a long finger, knocking it back and forth, playfully admonishing her,  "Remember there is no fate worse than death."

"Oh, thank you my Lord," Karkaroff groveled, his blue eye reflecting immense relief.  "You will not...regret...NOOOOOO!"  The former Headmaster's eyes opened wide as one of the Dementors bent over, pulling back its hood and revealing it's rotten, skeletal face.  He screamed as the Dementor took him, his blue eyes transfixed on the sparkling light that was exiting his mouth.  The wizard struggled, but in a few moments his body laxed and his screams hushed to a terrible silence.  Severus stood, carefully watching the scene as Ruedella, apparently too terrified to scream or move, sat transfixed on the scene as the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters laughed.

Caught in the pace of the feeding frenzy, the Dementor behind Ruedella grabbed her by the face and bent over, she started to scream as the creature pulled back its hood as its face hovered over her.  She looked over frantically to Voldemort and flailed with her hand to grab her wand.  Severus reacted quickly, sending a searing spell of white-hot flame at the creature.  The Dementor was knocked back, but its vice-like grip tore several gashes in her cheek from the force of the spell.  The Dark Lord, taking notice that his prized diviner was about to be a snack, violently slashed his wand at the Dementor, engulfing the it in flames. 

"That will teach you to not feed without permission," the Dark Lord said as he watched the Dementor flail around the room, like tall, animated torch.  Turning to Ruedella, he said, "Well enough for the festivities.  It is now time to get to work, yes?"  He motioned with his hand to another Death Eater, who quickly left the room.  "I understand," he continued, "that your abilities are the strongest over the full moon and weakest during the new moon and I can only expect a strong future divination once per quarter.  Although the situation is not ideal, I am quite keen on tapping into your talents."

The door opened and the Death Eater he had sent off returned with a deep ebony box.  Handing it to the Dark Lord he backed away and retreated to his position.  With a snap, Voldemort magically summoned the gold runes into it bag.  Seeing Karkaroff's hand resting on the board, Voldemort kicked the wizard off his chair, not phased as Karkaroff de-souled, yet living, body fell like a child's doll to the floor.  "Rabastan," he called out.  "Could you kindly remove Karkaroff?  Have one of the others," he motioned to the room where the remaining Death Eaters were sequestered, "...take him to St. Mungo's.  Have them request that he take a room next to the Longbottoms." His flippant remark caused Bellatrix to laugh out loud.  Voldemort turned to Bellatrix and said, "There is nothing more satisfying than someone who takes pride in their work."

Placing the ebony box in the center of the table, he clicked open the latches.  Inside the black velvet casing was a deep black sack and a solid silver dagger.  "I can only expect the best only if I provide the best tools."  He picked up the small sack, untied it and carefully emptied the bright white runes on the table.  "A gift from Grindelwold," he said with a hint of satisfaction.  "He told me that these are ancient, thousands of years old and made from the bones of an infant wizard ripped from his mother's womb."  He held up the dagger, caressing it gently in his hand.  "Pure silver, no contamination, and made from a single mold...sharpened," he cut his finger on it with ease, "to perfection."  He nodded to Ruedella, "I trust you know what to do?"

She picked up the runes, carefully placing them in the bag.  Folding down the edge of the bag, so the opening was wide she took the dagger in her right hand.  She looked at Voldemort and said, "What do you wish to know."  Severus held his eyes to the witch.  So she had lied to him, she had learned the rituals and by being allowed to share in the knowledge, she knew very well what her abilities were.  But why, he considered, why did she keep them hidden.  Was it a promise, Severus wondered, that she made to Dumbledore?  He recalled the image of her as teen placing her wand on Dumbledore's desk.  Was that event connected?

"I wish to know," Voldemort voice snapped Severus back to the situation, "the entire prophecy made regarding myself and Harry Potter."

Ruedella nodded, concentrating on the request.  Severus watched patiently as the witch engaged in a few minutes of meditation, which the Dark Lord seemed to understand was part of her ritual and was not otherwise pushing her.  Slowly, the witch held her left hand over the opened bag and slit the palm of her hand.  Blood oozed from the open cut as she carefully placed thirteen large drops of blood into the bag.  The contents of the bag howled and cried, the room filled with the sound of the screams of the mother as she was cut open and the cries of the infant as he was sacrificed; the wails haunted the dungeon and echoed off the walls.  Severus' skin prickled at the sound; he had witnessed many things in his life, but few moved him in such a manner.  In a quick move, Ruedella palmed the contents of the bag onto her cut hand, the room filled with a searing sound as her cut magically cauterized.  Slamming the runes on the table, the witch rearranged the runes with a few flicks of her wand.  She then levitated the silver knife over the runes and watched it drop.

"The knife serves as the starting point," Ruedella said.  She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, exhausted.  

The Dark Lord stood up and walked behind her, from what Severus could tell, he was reading the runes and doing his own interpretation.  Anyone, Severus thought as he watched Ruedella rest, with the right training could interpret the runes; only a very few could actually cast the runes for any specific purpose or insight.

"Did Snape tell you of the prophecy?" the Dark Lord's voice cut through the room.  The voice had an edge, a very dangerous edge, Severus noted.

"No my Lord," Ruedella said softly, her eyes still closed and she was shaking slightly from the exhaustion.

"Look at me, girl!" the Dark Lord demanded and grabbed her by the shoulder.  He grabbed her face, and Ruedella whined as his finger dug into the cuts the Dementor had made earlier.  "LOOK AT ME!" he commanded.  After a second, he said, "No," and let her go.  "He did not."  There was an element of satisfaction in his voice.  "So," he said, turning to his most loyal followers, "Let us see what we have learned."  The Dark Lord began, a nearby parchment and quill scribbling frantically as it recorded notes.  "A child born in the seventh month powerful enough to kill me will be born.  Born to those who have escaped..." he nodded, "That much does agree with what I was so far told."  He turned to Severus, "I do hope that your hearing was not impaired that night."  He circled a few more runes with his finger, a bright ring of flame highlighted where he was pointing.  "These, however, I do not know.  Without that information, even a partial interpretation cannot be trusted."

Ruedella opened her eyes and leaned over the cast runes.  She studied them for a few minutes, her mouth moving and her brow furrowing as she was making a serious effort to recall some information.  Shaking, she said, "The runes are ancient.  Some of the marking have not been used for over seven hundred to a thousand years."  She looked again, taking some notes, her hand trembling as she gripped the quill.  "Something to the effect that he is marked and that your lives are interconnected."  She turned to Voldemort who was nodding, "I am afraid that I cannot interpret these without consulting some reference tombs.  Even at Gringotts we often made copies and took days or even weeks..." she trailed off, "...to interpret..."

"FINE!" Voldemort said, apparently disappointed, but not willing, yet to take it out on her.  "I will advise you, however, that Dumbledore shall not know of this."  He turned to Severus, "Later you and I shall discuss...privately...on how to use this information to our greatest advantage."  Turning back to the runes, he waved his fingers, a parchment flew into the air and landed on the runes, the pattern burning into the paper.  "Take it!" he commanded Ruedella.  "Report back what you find!"  He paced the room as Ruedella cleaned up the table and placed the neatly rolled parchment into her cloak.  Severus noted that she looked ill and weak, her white flesh sallow and greenish.

"Ah, yes..." Voldemort said in mid-turn, addressing Ruedella once more.  "Just one other minor request and you shall be free to leave."  He held up his hand, panning each Death Eater in turn.  "I prefer thirteen as my choice number of those in my inner circle.  However, Ruedella, I wish to extend the invitation to you."  Throwing the bag of gold runes to her, he asked, "You can tell me if thirteen is my choice number of if fourteen will work?"  He looked at the witch, "I assume this is a clarification, not a true divination, so although after your exertion tonight, you should be able to do this request easily."

Ruedella nodded as she quickly took the runes and threw them down.  "Thirteen is your best number," she said.

"Yes, so it is," Voldemort replied, looking at the runes himself.  "Well, that does present a bit of a problem, does it not?"  He tapped his long skeletal finger on his pointed chin.  "Ah," he said, coming to some conclusion.  "Avery, do step forward."  The Death Eater stepped forward, his eyes respectfully diverted down until, Voldemort yelled out 'Avada Kedavra' and Avery looked up, his eyes bathed in panic.  Avery fell as the green light consumed his body.  "Was not recently pleased with his performance," the Dark Lord said dismissively, summoning over Avery's cloak and mask and handing them to Ruedella who appeared that she was going to pass out.  "But," the Dark Lord turned to Rodolphus and then to Severus, "there is one other minor detail that we should attend before you receive your Mark."

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Thanks for reading. Please leave feedback! If you wish, comments may also be sent to my email (listed on the profile). Thanks and I hope you enjoyed.  Also, don't forget to sign up for the Author notifications if you have not done so already.


	14. Puzzles, Enigmas and Riddles

**Author's Notes:**This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!  I was quite busy with family and remodeling, so I apologize for not updating sooner.  I promise in the next chapter I'll reply to some of the comments.  I just wanted to get this up since its been a two month hiatus.  Again, your input has been appreciated although I do warn some folks to not assume that everything is as it seems.... sinister laugh Bahhwwahhhaaa /sinister laugh  Oh, and although the chapter is in decent shape, my apologies in advance for any errors – I did want to get this up and although my own review was thorough, a second set of eyes always does a better job.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

**Chapter 14 – Puzzles, Enigmas and Riddles...**

Harry bolted straight up in his bed.  He was a restless sleeper, a condition he acquired over the past couple of years, and tonight his subconscious diligence paid off as he reacted to the soft scrape of his bed curtains and saw a blurred silhouette of a face that filled the parted space.  He instinctively reached for his wand, which he kept securely under his pillow.  Before he could issue a defensive spell, a thin bony hand quickly covered his mouth as another hand patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.  Gathering his wits, he squinted to make out the face.  It was a female face, older, and as his unaided eyes adjusted to the subdued light which emitted from the end of the witch's wand, he could see a blur of scarlet and green of a tartan nightcap.  

"Sorry Harry," McGonagall said in a whisper.  "Professor Dumbledore asked me to fetch you."  She backed her head out of the bed drapes for a moment and then silently slid them open a couple of feet.  She reached over and grabbed his robe that hung on a nearby hook and held it open.

Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on.  He donned his slippers and his readied robe and quietly closed the drapes to his bed, lest someone would wake up at this ghastly hour to find him gone.  He followed McGonagall out of the dorm and down the steps; finally reaching the backside of the portrait that guarded the Gryffindor entrance.

"Should we run into Filch," she said softly, but firmly, "we shall tell him that there is something with your Aunt and Uncle.  Professor Snape will take care of any other 'questions' Filch has."  She opened the door and they proceeded out.  

Harry closed the door, waking the Fat Lady who was slumped in a rather uncomfortable looking position.  She woke with a start and was about to admonish Harry for nighttime running, but immediately noticed McGonagall.  The portrait drowsily issued a silent nod and let them on their way as it settled back into sleep.

"Professor," Harry said, finally in an area where he could talk.  "What is going on?"

"You-Know-Who was at it again," McGonagall said.  "Did you not feel it?"

"Not really," Harry said truthfully.  Since the episode in the Ministry at the end of the last school year, he had managed to all but drive Voldemort from his head.  He would feel high emotional spikes from time to time, but nothing that compared to the attempted all-out possessions of last year.  "I do not think he killed anyone."

"Perhaps," McGonagall answered quickly and the picked up her pace.  "Dumbledore has called an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.  Everyone has been summoned."  Harry inferred that more questions would be answered later.

They reached the Gargoyle and the witch issued the password, opening the spiral staircase.  Just as they were about to get on, someone or something unseen bumped into them.  Startled, they both pulled out their wands.

"Sorry," Tonks said as she pulled off her invisibly cloak, revealing a youthful female face framed with a mane of multicolored hair with a long curly pink lock snaking down the center of her forehead.  "Borrowed this from Moody.  Most are taking turns on brooms and entering through the Headmaster's window.  Mad-Eye did not think it wise to mix me with brooms and flying near glass."

Harry nodded and smiled to his friend.  It would be good seeing everyone from the Order, but that joy, he knew, would be overshadowed by the news Dumbledore felt it necessary to share.

~***~

Harry always assumed that Dumbledore's office took up the entire circumference of the tower it inhabited.  That would be true in Muggle conventions, but not for wizards.  A simple, unremarkable bookshelf off the left side of Dumbledore's desk was moved out of place, revealing a secret door.  Harry followed behind the witches, stopping in the doorway as he marveled at the huge room within.  The area, Harry estimated, was 10 meters long by 5 meters wide and was paneled with a deep reddish brown wood.  A long pale table sat in the center, flanked by chairs with a taller chair at the far side of the table.  Large scarlet banners, half adorned with Phoenixes billowed off the ceiling.  At the far end of the room he could see Mad-Eye and Shacklebolt talking to Dumbledore while Snape sat nearby at the table, pouring over a parchment while his long fingers quickly leafed through a stack of large dusty leather tomes.

"Sounds like trouble," a familiar, tired voice said from behind Harry.  Harry turned to see Remus Lupin.  Realizing that he was blocking the door, Harry quickly moved to the table and took a seat, motioning for Remus and Tonks to join him.  "Any idea what is going on?"

"Karkaroff was dropped off at St. Mungos," Tonks said.  "Minus a soul.  Seems that You-Know-Who fed him to the Dementors.  There was some note about putting him with the Longbottoms..." she said but then abruptly stopped.

"Got that from the Ministry?" Remus asked.

"Oh, oh yeah," she said quickly.  

Remus twitched his mouth and turned to Harry, his eyes lingering on Tonks for a second before turning his attention to the teen.  "Although that is indeed bad news, I cannot see why he would call us for that..." He motioned his head towards Moody and Shacklebolt who were talking to Dumbledore.  The discussion was heated and apparently there was some disagreement.  They could hear the word 'Azkaban' and Snape stood up and took an intimidating posture against Moody, the Potions Master's low voice apparently agitated, but given the distance, and the speaker's attempt to be discreet, barely audible.  

"What I wouldn't give for one of the twin's ear extenders," Harry said with a sigh.

"We will learn soon enough," Remus said, patting Harry on the shoulder.

~***~

When the last of the Order arrived, Dumbledore motioned for McGonagall to close the door and called the meeting to order.  He stood at the edge of the table and said in an oddly calm voice, "Tonight Igor Karkaroff was fed to the Dementors.  What was left of him was deposited at St. Mungos.  In addition, Voldemort," he frowned as a few members winced, "is attempting to reconstruct the prophecy using Rune divination.  I have reason to believe that the prophecy has been compromised."

"That is not entirely true," Snape quickly interrupted, "the parchment still has to be fully interpreted."

"If Lestrange did not go running off to aid her brother, she would not have been in a position to create the parchment!" Moody sprang up.  "Really Albus, I think it is bad enough that you keep... HIM..." Moody pointed a stubby, gnarled finger at Snape, "...around let alone the other one.  Coincidence my arse!  Now she's 'accidentally' revealed the prophecy!  Egads! Are you deft!"

"Oh, from time to time, undoubtedly," Dumbledore admitted with a shrug.  "However, I still stand behind that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time this summer."  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter tossing it to Moody.  "Rabastan gave her every indication that he was interested in defecting..."

"And why not tell you first thing?" Shackelbolt intervened, shaking his head.  The light of the candles danced off his gold earring and bald palate.

"She did not believe him...entirely..." Severus replied instead.

"WAIT!" Harry said, standing up, waving his arms.  "I am afraid that more than a handful of us are quite lost..." The quiet murmurs of agreement made Harry feel a bit better, as he hated to be the last one on the uptake.

"Very well," Dumbledore said.  "The best place to start is at the beginning.  When Professor Lestrange was a student, I discovered, though a few...incidences...that she had a talent for Rune divination.  I knew, given her bloodline, that she would be a prime target for recruitment-- as her eldest brother and cousin so I had learned-- received their Mark before they left these halls.  I convinced the girl to keep the secret, however, as I learned tonight, her Grandmother was well aware of her talent and worked with her during the summers.  Fortunately," Dumbledore smiled warily, "The elder Mrs. Malfoy knew that the girl's fate with Voldemort would be a dangerous road and elected to not share these secret classes with anyone..."

"Pity that she did not keep a better leash on her Grandsons," Moody interrupted.

Dumbledore nodded and then continued. "Karkaroff knew of one set of incidences.  Between his attempt to spare his life and regain his status in the Death Eaters, her unwitting revelation with a clarification she performed in a recent class, and her cousin Lucius' deduction, her brothers set a trap.  Rabastan wrote her claiming to have second thoughts about his involvement with Voldemort.  She met him to investigate and was captured earlier this evening."

"Dear gods!" McGonagall said, holding her hand over her mouth.  "Is she..."

"She is fine," Severus growled.  "Aside from a few cuts from a Dementor claws..."

"And receiving the Dark Mark for her 'valued' services," Dumbledore added.  He looked sternly at Moody who slammed his fist into the table.  "I understand correctly, Severus, that Avery was executed so that she could take his place?"

"Correct," Severus said, his voice level and unaffected at the implication. 

Harry stood up quickly, the force slamming the chair back onto the floor.  "So, what she said about me...the runes for her class that Hermione prepared...are true...I should not even exist...that this timeline should not be occurring..." Harry said in a quick staccato, his face flushed with rising anger.  "If Voldemort now knows the prophecy..."

"He does not know it... at least entirely," Dumbledore said holding up his hand.  "The runes used were quite ancient and archaic, neither Voldemort or Lestrange could interpret them on the spot."  He pointed his hand towards a rolled up parchment that sat in front of Severus.  "She was instructed to interpret the Runes using the library here at Hogwarts, as it is perhaps one of the few places the information could be found."

"So you are simply going to let her interpret them and hand them over to Voldemort!" Moody yelled out, his magical eye quivering in its socket in raw anger.

"Absolutely not!" Dumbledore said.  "She is not going to interpret them.  I am."

~***~

"Albus, respectfully," Remus Lupin spoke up.  "I am afraid I did not hear you correctly..."

"I am certainly confident in her skills," Dumbledore said, "but this is ultimately my responsibility."

"It is HIS responsibility that Voldemort even knows about the prophecy!" Moody yelled out pointing at Snape.  "Had he not been sneaking around the Hogs Head Inn like the scum that he is..." Moody scowled and motioned 'come hither' with his fingers as Severus stood up.

"YOU!" Harry took a step forward, but Lupin grabbed him by the arm.  "You were the one who told Voldemort!  You were the one who betrayed my parents!  Betrayed Neville's parents."  Harry seethed, violently shaking off Remus who was trying to get him to sit back down.  "My lowly so-called 'Mudblood' mother who was the only one to stand up for your pathetic..._sniveling_...self.  HER BLOOD LIES ON YOUR HANDS!"  Harry lashed out, not caring what he said and who was to witness.  He watched as Snape reacted-- but not with a curse, nor a yell or some smarmy, hateful comment.  The wizard simply collapsed into his chair and stared at the boy; his black eyes revealing to Harry, for just a brief second, pain.  Harry's knees buckled and he willingly sat back down under the pressure of Remus' hand; fortunately the werewolf had righted his chair.  Harry had always wished to get in the final word with Snape; however the victory was not as sweet as he would have imagined. 

"And, this is a reminder again," Dumbledore said softly, but his voice carried solemnly through the room, "why Severus Snape risks his life daily for our cause.  You may not like his methods or what he must do.  But, we should be grateful that he does do it so honorably."

"What about Lestrange?" Shackelbolt said, not begrudging Harry his comment, but seeing the need to get the meeting back on track.  "She has compromised everything and I am sorry, this is twice now...she cannot be that dense.  Anyone that accident prone is doing it on purpose --"

"The fault is entirely mine," Severus said.  "The past month we have had a rift and, as such, I was not in a position to advise her in the capacity that I should have.  I saw her receive a note yesterday morning.  It made me suspicious..."

"Considering it was sent by Hermes," Harry said, a bit too loud, but soft enough that it was not perceived to be an interruption.  Bill, who was sitting two seats away turned immediately and gave Harry an odd look.  Harry swallowed and continued to listen.  

"...I saw her leave for Hogsmeade and eventually followed her to the Hogs Head Inn," Severus finished, his black eyes regarding Harry coldly with a steel glint in his eye.

"Popular place," Moody said sarcastically, "surprise Slytherin class reunion?"

Severus looked at Moody disdainfully.  "I believe amateur comedy night is held at the Three Broomsticks Sunday evenings," Severus said.  "If I may continue.  I lost sight of her in the tavern; I assumed she was instructed to go to a specific room.  As I began my search, I was summoned.  There I found that she was captured."

"But you were arguing," Harry said.

"Excuse me," Snape looked at the teen, his fingers twitching as if he were fighting the urge to rip the young wizard's head off.

"I saw the two of you arguing earlier this evening," Harry said.  "It appeared she was heading to Hogsmeade..."

"Mr. Potter, if your observations are material, then please elaborate, however, you are wasting everyone's time," Snape said, his low voice cut like a razor.

"Were you aware that she was going to see her brothers or what?" Harry said.

"Professor," Snape looked at Dumbledore, "Perhaps Mr. Potter would better serve the order in a few years, when he has matured enough to ask the right questions."

"Well..." Arthur Weasley said, taking his cloth hat and crunching it between his hands.  "Since I have a few years on Harry, although I will not necessarily misinterpret it for maturity."  He smiled slightly, as much as the solemn occasion would allow as the others softly chuckled.  "Severus, if you will.  Talking to her is much different than simply following her."

"I was not able to obtain any useful information," Severus said, flicking his hand dismissively to demonstrate his annoyance.  "As I said, I suspected there was something amiss and I investigated.  The level of detail is not important."

"No, but you did exclude important information," Moody said, sitting back in the chair, his natural eye looking up at the billowing tapestries as his magical eye riveted on the Potions master.  "There are two things that concern me.  First, of course, is the question of why Lestrange did not approach Dumbledore the moment she learned about her brother and second, why did you not tell Dumbledore that you believed something was wrong?"

"If I informed the Headmaster of every inkling," Snape said, he teeth slightly bared, "he would not have time to deal with important matters.  You know very well that our jobs are to follow credible leads and report only when there is something of substance."  He looked at Moody who appeared to be rather unconvinced.  "You appear to have other issues...other unresolved questions?"  His voice was calm, but it was apparent that he was forcing himself to be civil.

"You could say that," Moody said, both his eyes now staring at Snape and his fingers laced over his stomach as he balanced on the back hind legs of the wooden chair.  "Like how such a talented Legumen like yourself, who made it a point to be Quirrell's 'new best friend,'" he said the last with icy sarcasm, "could not figure out that Voldemort's spirit was attached to the back of his head.  How you, Lucius Malfoy's overgrown greasy crup, did not know about his plot to open the Chamber of Secrets and why, of all things, you suggested to Draco Malfoy to release a snake at Harry during that little duel.  Your whereabouts during the last Triwizard event... and of course, where were you REALLY when you went out looking for Harry and that Granger girl last summer.  You can hear the Giant fart from a mile away."  Ignoring Hagrid's grumbling protest, he continued,  "Don't tell me that you really had to scour the forest..."  He sighed, "And I don't even want to go into the details about Lestrange.  Her summer activities aside, you are ready with one excuse after another.  The werewolf boggart and how she nearly killed Harry by 'accident' and how standard procedure was circumvented because you used your newfound wealth to 'influence' Minister of Magic."  Moody leaned forward, "I've learned, Snape, that he's under the impression that Lestrange is your would-be wife?  Now c'mon my lad, since when were you the marrying type?"

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY LOYALTIES!" Snape leapt up and in a smooth, seamless movement pointed his wand at Moody.

"THERE ARE SERIOUS QUESTIONS THAT SHOULD BE ANSWERED!" Moody said, matching Snape's pose.

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore bellowed, his voice shot through the room like lightening.  The two wizards turned to face the elder wizard.  "Sit!" he commanded.  When the two finally sat, he said, "Severus is often put in positions where he cannot be as straightforward in displaying his loyalties.  Severus," Dumbledore looked at his Potions Master over his moon-shaped glasses.  "Severus, I trust you completely.  It may be difficult for some to accept your... _duality_... but I understand what you must do."  He looked at Moody, Arthur, and Shackelbolt in turn, then panned his eyes over the rest of the group.  "As I have said before and can only reiterate it now, we are only as strong as we are united.  Voldemort will try to divide us..."

"Are you implying..." Moody looked a bit shaken.

"I trust you as much as I do Severus... as much as I trust everyone here..." Dumbledore scanned the room, meeting his eyes with each member in turn, spending a bit too much time, Harry noted, on Mundungus.  "I am saying that Voldemort will try to divide us; our own internal squabbles can only make short work of his efforts."

"My apologies, Headmaster," Shacklebot volunteered, nodding towards the Headmaster.  "However, our situation at hand is that you have a faculty member who is acting quite strangely and I would feel more...assured," he looked at Moody who nodded for him to continue, "if someone would keep a very, very close eye on her so that any more 'accidents' do not befall her, or more precisely, her 'accidents' do not impact others.  This summer was one, and the boggart... and now this.  The coincidence is simply too strong and if she is indeed innocent, then there is something else odd going on and one could reasonably conclude that her life may be in jeopardy..."

"I often thought that a certain brand of deadly, dumb luck only presented itself to a chosen few," Snape interjected, his black eyes darting to Harry for a split second.  "However, due to some changes in circumstance, I am now in a better position to watch over her.  I assure you that this will not happen..."

"Oh, Severus..." Dumbledore looked at his Potions Master, "You didn't..."

"I was hardly in a position to turn it down," Severus said cryptically, answering the Headmasters uncompleted question.

"Well, congratulations," Dumbledore said tersely, his blue eyes still had the twinkle, but not in the same lively manner.  "However, although your diligence on this will be appreciated, I believe that we should employ another as well..."

"I thought you trusted her!" Severus said.

"Trust has nothing to do with it.  She has a skill that is no longer a secret.  I owe her protection no less that what I am supplying Sybil."  Dumbledore took in a breath and scratched his beard, apparently rolling an idea through his head.  "Yes, yes indeed... that would work just fine..." the old wizard congratulated himself, his voice now light with an edge of enthusiasm, as if he simply packed up and compartmentalized the rather terse conversation that occurred just moments before.

"What would work just fine?" Bill asked.  "I could, if you wanted..."

"No, no," Dumbledore waved his hand.  "This is perfect.  She requires additional practice in Occulemency and he could use practice in that as well as Legumency.  No... that would work."

"Who requires practice?" Harry asked.

"Why, Harry," Dumbledore beamed.  "You do..."

~***~

"NO!" Harry and Snape said simultaneously, realizing what the Headmaster had in mind.  The two quickly looked at one another, startled.  Harry turned away, one ear listening in as Snape continued to debate with Dumbledore.  Harry occasionally peeked over, afraid that if he said something that Snape would change his position simply to be contrary.  Then again, he considered, with the way things were going the notion of he and Snape agreeing on something might be a sign that the universe was about to collapse upon itself.  He fought the urge to join the debate, giving Snape... for the first time in his life... the benefit of the doubt that he could work this out satisfactorily.  It was an awkward trust and one, given the revelations of the evening, which Harry was quite reluctant to extend.

"So," Remus tapped Harry on the shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts, "What was the deal about the werewolf..."  Remus had leaned in towards the boy, and his voice was low, so not to disturb the main conversation.

Harry blinked a few times and turned to look at Remus.  The werewolf looked rather worried, the lines on his face more defined than ever.  Matching Remus' pose and keeping his voice to a whisper, Harry said, "Err... Bill had a boggart in his cupboard for his third year class.  I guess Lestrange was visiting the class and the boggart attacked when Bill was in his office.  The students rushed his office for protection..."

"The werewolf," Remus interrupted, "what did it look like?" His voice had a slight quiver.

Harry paused and then closed his eyes and swallowed.  "It looked like you, Remus... but err... smaller, browner hair..."

"Like a younger version of me?" Remus asked.

"I can't be sure," Harry said, "But..."

"It did cross your mind," Remus completed his sentence.  "But there's no way..."

"Maybe Snape told her," Harry said.  "But the detail was too concise."

Remus looked over to Dumbledore.  He and Snape had concluded their discussion, and, judging from Snape's fouler than normal expression, it was apparent that the Potions Master was on the losing side.  The Headmaster looked at the werewolf for a second and then quickly turned his attention back to the Potions Master.  Remus took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  "I knew that there was something else..."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore's punishment of Sirius was too light and James' reward for saving Severus too generous," Remus said in a whisper.  "It was very odd, like there was other information we didn't know that he factored into account."  Remus looked down on the table, his voice still low.  "The look on his face that night—I will see it forever etched in my mind—he was older than I ever saw him, more solemn.  Yet there was this underlying element -- as if he were relieved in some odd way.  I knew that there was something else going on..."

"You're not making any sense," Harry said, his head cocked slightly as he was trying to understand what his older friend was saying.

"I always believed that Sirius was not expelled because Sirius' family would raise Hades with the Board of Governors, demanding an inquiry which would expose me as a werewolf," Remus said, "I was under the impression all these years that he spared Sirius simply to save me."

"But Sirius' family all but disowned him," Harry said, "from what I understand, he was estranged from them by his fifth or sixth year."  Harry leaned closer towards Remus, "Why, Remus... why... Really-- why did he do it?"

Remus sucked on his lower lip, "Sirius was never fond of Snape and it wasn't until after that...event... that I learned Snape was his half brother.  Sirius wanted to get Snape off of our backs... play a trick.  Harry, Sirius really did believe that Snape could get away."  Remus looked at Harry, "Err... I can't go into detail.  But Sirius and your Dad had a theory.  Sirius, without your father's advance knowledge, put it to a test.  I guess Snape was too terrified..."

Harry looked over at Snape.  The Potions Master was watching them intently; his arms folded across his chest as he stared down the table.  Harry wisely avoided eye contact.  "Err... I know it's silly," Harry said, "but was there a reason, all those years ago, that you assigned that vampire essay... you know... after he had us do the werewolf one."

"I'm afraid that I can be petty," Remus said with a sigh.  

"So he's..." Harry said, his voice squeaked.

"You did not read very carefully or in very much depth, did you?" Remus said, his voice hinting some disappointment.

"I suppose that some reading is in order then?" Harry said.

Remus nodded.  After a few seconds, he looked up, watching as Dumbledore was talking with Shackelbolt and Moody and the rest of the Order intently engaged in listening to their ongoing debate.  Remus continued, "That night Dumbledore looked old... like he witnessed the most horrific scene imaginable.  I knew he was disappointed... and concerned for Severus... but..." Remus paused for a few seconds, "But he had an intensity that night... as if something **had** happened that night and what transpired was a suitable alternative.  I just can't explain it... a _feeling_..."  Remus added, "One of the few benefits of being part dark creature is a deeper sense of intuition..."

"Do you think Voldemort struck somewhere that night, and since you were too young to be in the Order, you did not know about it?  That, perhaps, you were mistaking Dumbledore's reaction to some unrelated event and projecting it onto your situation?" Harry offered the explanation.

"Plausible," Remus said, considering it thoughtfully.  "Yet..."

"There's something else... that feeling," Harry said.  He paused and looked at Remus, "You think that Lestrange was there?  Maybe she saw Dad pull Snape away and saw you in the cave?  That might explain how she knew what your werewolf form looked like."

"You father claimed that no one else was there," Remus said.  "You know that the grounds surrounding the Whomping Willow offer little cover.  There is no way that a girl, or even a man, could be close enough to witness what happened, yet get to cover in time that she was not seen."

"She could Apparate," Harry offered.  "I've never tried it, but you cannot apparate onto Hogwarts, but perhaps one can apparate within... like the House Elves?"

"She was thirteen or fourteen," Remus offered, "I doubt she knew how."

"Considering her family," Harry said, "I don't think that would have made the list of forbidden spells not to learn at home."

"Dumbledore would have caught her," Remus replied, "assuming that one can even disapparate within the grounds."  He added, "And, no, I am not into trying that experiment myself as I live dangerously enough."  He offered a smile as Harry softly sniggered.

"Maybe," Harry concluded, "that is what happened and Dumbledore was trying to protect her and going through all that trouble to cover it up."

"A lot of work and a lot of hurt feelings for a simple apparation," Remus said.  "You know that students try that all the time, especially on Hogsmeade weekends.  No," he said carefully, "there has to be more to it."

~***~

"So what you are saying," Moody pronounced, closing his tired eyes.  "Is that this whole scenario is based upon an old Slytherin betting pool and a recent clarification divination, which, I may add, we are assuming is about Harry, but have no real confirmation.  Did anyone bother to ask the Granger girl or are we just going to hold hands and skip down this merry path hoping that if we believe something strongly enough it will turn into the truth?  That's the catch isn't it?  That through some sort of intricate web, you're deceiving Voldemort."  The old Auror sighed, "Well, I suppose that is some constructive use for the likes of her."

"Lestrange has the ability," Dumbledore said, "but with all Rune divination, the accuracy is played as much through the interpretation as the throwing.  Granted, in theory, anyone can learn to interpret runes, but there is a subtle art..."

"But you believe that the one... the one done in the class which made its way to Voldemort, piquing his attention and confirming Karkaroff's assertions, was accurate and about Harry?" Moody inquired.

"Not entirely," Dumbledore said, "but I have sufficient past evidence on her abilities in both areas that I feel our measures are prudent."

"Not entirely!" Moody parroted, "You are exasperating..."  He slapped his hands over his face, wishing the night were over.

"But the clarification had to be about me," Harry interrupted.  "It said I escaped death twice... once as a baby—that was with Voldemort—and the second time I would guess is when I saved myself from the Dementors when we were rescuing Sirius..."

"Harry!" Dumbledore cautioned.

"Saved yourself from the Dementors?" Moody looked at Harry and then to Dumbledore.  "Care to explain, Albus?"

Dumbledore sat back in the chair, and tilted back his head while closing his eyes.  After gathering his thoughts, and perhaps a bit of strength, he explained.  "Hermione Granger was in possession of a time turner her third year.  I advised her and Harry to use it to go back in time to save both Sirius Black and the Hippogriff, Buckbeak."  He looked at Harry, and added, "The clarification said that the subject actually died.  With you, that was not the case."

"But, as you said," Shackelbolt interjected, "a divination is only as good as the interpretation.  Death or near death... or escaping from a deadly situation... I studied Runes, Albus, and although I would not claim to be an expert, you know as well as I that there are shadows and shades of interpretation that..."

"It was quite clear," Dumbledore said.  "But, regardless, my task is here," he held up a rolled scroll.

"Excuse me," Arthur Weasley cleared his throat.  Bill and a few others looked at Dumbledore anxiously.  "Aren't there penalties for the illegal use of a time turner... regulations... whatnot?"

"Lots of whatnots, there are," Dumbledore answered.  "Having written a few of those whatnots, I can say quite honestly that the spirit of the law was to prevent the use of the time turner for personal gain or to commit crimes."

"It is far too late in the evening to debate the implication of time and choices," Arthur said, "but what if saving Sirius Black wasn't intended to be?  That perhaps though good intentions we've somehow extended the war?"

"Or assured our victory?" Albus said with a shrug.  "If I saw you being pulled under by a Grindylow would I simply say that it was 'meant to be' although my wand or a wave of my hands could save you?  A time turner is a tool... a powerful tool and one that should be used only with restraint and respect.  Saving lives is worthy of the consideration it deserves—going back in time to get the numbers for the Leprechaun Lottery is not."

"But," Tonks added, "This clarification did say that Harry shouldn't exist.  That this war, or at least this timeline or situation we're in, is happening because he should have died."  She looked at Harry and offered a slight smile, "No offense because I do like you, just playing devil's advocate.  What if You-Know-Who should have won and perhaps another set of people were supposed to be in place to win the war?"

"We can go on until the end of time itself," Moody said his voice slightly muffled as he laid his head on the table, gently tapping his forehead on the wood, as if he were mockingly beating his head.  "No pun intended... But we must find out one thing first..."

~***~

The accent was appalling, Voldemort noted as he watched the head float above the basin.  It was an image of a Muggle, Arab or Central Asian as far as he could tell, with an accent that combined the essence of his native tongue and an adopted East End demi-Cockney shrill.  The floating head spun, repeating the words over and over, yet Voldemort could not entirely make out what he was saying.  He sat back in his chair and stroked his snake's enormous head.  With a wave of his hand, the image enlarged and instead of a head, he could see the entire scene.  The Lestrange witch was sitting in a Muggle car and giving instructions to the man, apparently her driver.  He did not quite understand why she was using a Muggle contraption and resigned himself to believing, for now, that it was part of her earlier ruse to situate herself as a Muggle so she could approach and abduct Potter.

"Looks like a cab driver," Wormtail said.

"Did I ask you?" Voldemort replied, his voice dangerous as he was quite annoyed.  Realizing that he certainly was not going to understand the man any time soon, he turned to his servant.  "Care to take a throw at it?"

"What is it, my Lord?" Wormtail asked.  "I mean, I know it is a Muggle cab driver—at least from appearances.  But...err..."

"Why do I have this image in my penseive?" Voldemort finished his servant's hesitant question.

"I can help better if I understand the context," Wormtail replied apprehensively.

Voldemort shook his head and lazed in the chair.  "Lestrange was quite forthcoming when I asked if she had prior knowledge about the prophecy.  She was so weak that ever single element about Potter, what he looked like, his known friends... every bit of information she knew about him came bubbling to the surface.  It was not a lot of information, mind you, but she offered whatever she had.  What I could retrieve was information I already knew—Dumbledore was quite thorough in his Obliviate spell.  However, I did get this." He pointed to the image floating in the pensieve.  "Since she could not disapparate without being tracked, so she apparently resorted to Muggle transportation."  He waved his hand, replaying the cab driver's words.  "It sounds like he is repeating an address.  Surrey, I believe is part... but the town... 'Li ing'... No..."  Voldemort shook his head, frustrated that he was so close to an answer.

"Well," Wormtail said, standing next to his Master.  "Potter will not be returning until the summer; at least that is what Malfoy has reported in the past.  We have until then to get your answers, my Lord."

"I want them now!" Voldemort screamed.  Nagini hissed and slithered behind the chair.  It knew when to get out of its Master's way.

"Them?" Wormtail asked, puzzled. 

"Potter is afforded his protection because of his mother..." Voldemort began.

"But, my Lord, I thought that the resurrection – his blood – broke that bond," Wormtail queried.

"I can touch him," Voldmort said, ignoring, for now, that he was interrupted.  "And although I believe that the bond has been broken, at the very least partially, I do know that I cannot be certain that it is terminated unless his relatives are.  After Quirrell's failure, I prefer to be more certain that the various spells and protections placed on the boy are broken."

Wormtail nodded and then walked closer to the image, studying it carefully.  The contraption the two were sitting in was clean and tidy.  He could see a black box with number that appeared to display Muggle currency.  Under the large front window he could see the driver's photo and some other information.  "Master," he asked, pointing to the photograph, "could you enlarge this area?"

Voldemort nodded, somewhat curious what his normally insipid servant was trying to accomplish.  Although not willing to admit defeat, he was desperate enough for the information to allow the fool to bungle around some.  A cruel smile crossed his lips as the photo enlarged and beside it was the driver's name and name and address of the cab company.

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Don't forget to leave your comments!  If you're interested, sign up for 'Author Alerts' so you'll be sent an email when the next chapter is up!


	15. Full Circle

**Author's Notes:**This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)

Velze – I had to build out the relationship and background otherwise future elements of the story would not make sense.  Most of the story is/will be from Harry's perspective, although I will change specific scenes from time to time.  Without the background there wouldn't be the context.  Besides, Snape is the primary character, not Harry.

AmZ – Most of your questions will be answered as the story progresses (although I suspect that you've long since discarded this story).  It's a complicated situation with Snape – he's treading on an area where he's never treaded before and confuses convenience with affection.  Also consider that what we have seen of Snape in JKR's works is what he **wants** us to see of him.  I think that the end of Prisoner of Azkaban we got to see a bit of the 'real' Snape – eager for recognition and accolades.  It's that piece I saw that I'm developing further in this story.

Louise – Thanks for the comments.  You're right on regarding some things but wrong on others.  You'll see…

For the rest, thanks for your comments and encouragement.  

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~

Chapter 15 – Full Circle 

"With my studies and Quidditch, I do not know how I could fit this in." Harry stood in front of the Headmaster's desk watching the elderly wizard idly take a few notes.  "I am quite keen on doing well on my N.E.W.T.s and…"

"Simply two hours a week," Dumbledore interrupted without looking up from his writing.  With a free hand he picked up Harry's timetable and held it up into the air.  "Two hours is more than enough time and I see a few spots which coordinate with her schedule as well."

"But last time I felt weak.  I could barely study afterwards," Harry protested.

"That is because you were not putting in your full effort," Dumbledore countered.  "You will find that when the exercises are done properly you are left with a clear, sharp mind.  Your problem was that you were too focused on fighting Professor Snape instead of benefiting from the lessons."  He put the timetable down and set his hands on the table, lacing his fingers.  "You may find Professor Lestrange's temperament somewhat more agreeable, although she does get quite cross if you are slacking off.  She is quite a stickler for detail and doing things properly, so I would not try to cut corners with her, as her wrath would probably be as severe as Professor Snape's."

"You are not at all concerned that she would try something?  I mean we would be alone," Harry asked.

"I have full confidence that, like Professor Snape, she would never do anything willingly to put you in harm and in fact, if in a bind, I know that she would protect you," Dumbledore said.

"Your trust in her," Harry asked, "Does that have to do with her talent?"

"Indirectly, yes," Dumbledore said.  His expression implied that Harry was not to pursue the discussion any further.  "I suggest that you simply pursue the lessons and get as much from them as you can.  Professor Snape will be teaching her and she, in turn, is to instruct you as well as gain her own practice."

"She will need it for Voldemort," Harry said.

"Yes, she will," Dumbledore said.  "Oh, and one last item.  She is unaware that I am preparing the interpretation.  She was instructed to prepare it without my knowledge; Professor Snape shared the information with us at some risk.  She is not to know that you are aware of her abilities or that anyone knows about what happened."

"But why isn't she coming to you?" Harry blurted out, quite confused.

"She has attempted to do so over the past few days," Dumbledore offered.  "I have been purposefully 'inconveniently occupied' and unable to talk to her.  She has been quite discreet, which tells me something quite important."  The Headmaster sighed and shook his head.  "Such a complicated ruse, but necessary none the less.  I learn more from what is not done or not said that what is done or said."

"That does not make any sense," Harry said.

"Good."  The Headmaster stood and waved the boy to the door.  

~***~

The early November air was biting and foreshadowed an upcoming frigid winter.  Harry could hear the wind blow outside the tower, making him snuggle into his chair even more as he sat in the Gryffindor common room.  He was aggressively reading and taking notes, occasionally checking his watch for the time and looking into the fire for both warmth and mental recitation.  Although he had placed an alarm spell on his watch, he was unusually anxious.  After a few more minutes of studying, he closed his book and leaned his head back, taking a break while clearing his mind.  

"If you're up for it," Ron said, as he approached Harry from behind and took the seat next to him, "I thought we'd have an impromptu Quidditch training.  Nothing formal, mostly to blow off steam."

"I have to leave in a few minutes," Harry said.  "Every Sunday and Wednesday from 3 to 4 pm I have a commitment.  I don't think it will interfere, but keep that in mind for the future."

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, curious.

 "I cannot tell you that," Harry said, tersely.  "I just have something Dumbledore wants me to do and I am bound to keep the secret.  Okay?"

"Okay," Ron said, slumping in the chair next to Harry.  "You've been just on edge ever since Hermione dragged in that stupid assignment.  You're starting to get a bit unbalanced again, like you were last year."

"Well, if you were told that you should be dead and that this whole mess is your fault, then I doubt you'd be chipper!" Harry spat back.  He looked at his friend who was scowling.  "I'm sorry, it's just…"

"You can't get a break, can you?" Ron said.  "For a long time, Harry, I was jealous of all the attention you got and sometimes wished I could take your place.  You know, get recognized on the street, able to catch a snitch like you, be a bloody brilliant wizard…"

"Have a group of black-robed psychopaths try to kill you and make your life a living hell…" Harry chimed in.  "Oh, and speaking of living hell, there are the Dursleys.  Did you know that I have to go back to them over Christmas?  Dumbledore wants to reinforce the 'magical bond' and give it a little boost for the spring, I suppose."  Harry closed his eyes.  "I was really hoping to spend time at the house in Hogsmeade with Remus and Buckbeak and maybe, if your parents approved, some at the Burrow."

"Well, it's those parts where I've decided that I like being plain old Ron," Ron grinned.  "Seriously mate, I'd forget about it.  Snape probably put her up to it, to mess with you."  He placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.

"There's a lot more to it," Harry said.  "I wish I could go into it, but I don't think it was a trick.  Speaking of tricks, Remus and I were talking the other day…the early morning after Halloween… there was an emergency Order of the Phoenix meeting."

"Really?" Ron said, leaning forward, happy that Harry was sharing some tidbits.  "What happened?  Ok, I know you can't say, but how's Remus?"

"Remus is doing Okay," Harry said.  "He asked about Lestrange and the Boggart.  I told him what happened.  Well, most of it.  I didn't tell him about seeing Snape and some other kid all tore up."

"Some other kid?" Ron said.  "You never mentioned…"

"The form changed quickly to that of another boy," Harry said.  "I did not recognize him."

"Oh," Ron said, motioning with his hand for Harry to continue.

"He said that that night always bothered him.  He sensed that something else was going on—that things didn't add up.  Sirius got off with just a ton of detention and my Dad received an award.  He thought that it was just a cover-up by Dumbledore to help save him; but there was always something else, a passing thought or emotion, that made him think something terrible did happen."

"So what you're saying is that Lestrange did see something and Dumbledore covered it up?  If Remus tore Snape limb to limb and Lestrange saw that – and assuming he did survive it -- Snape would probably be a werewolf himself as a result.  You know that isn't true."  Ron added, "No, he's not a werewolf… something else… maybe, but not a werewolf."  Ron trailed off as he saw Hermione enter the common room.  Seeing she was laden with books, he bolted up to help her.  The couple approached Harry and Hermione sat down, exhausted.

"Long day?" Harry asked.  "Sunday is supposed to be a 'day of rest."

Hermione smiled and fished a letter out of the stack of books, parchments and other items.  "Just doing some research.  I was meaning to open this, but just did not get around to it.  Judging from the size, I guess my request was denied."

"What was denied?" Harry asked.

"I made an informational request from the Ministry of Magic for my Charms project," Hermione said.  "I am doing a report on Time Turners."

"How they work?" Harry asked.

"No, mainly uses and ethics," Hermione said.  "Examining the current laws and how the devices were applied in the past.  Most of the available data is regarding students; the most common use—or one deemed 'safe with appropriate protocols' is for taking additional classes."  She picked up a letter and opened it.  "I wrote the Ministry to request information about who, in the past two centuries, were allowed to use time turners, their use, duration, and any other particulars.  I hope this is the list, but I think they have panned the request."  She sliced open the letter and took out the papers.  It was obvious that whoever sent the information used a charm to wizard-size the envelope as the number of papers far exceeded the capacity of the envelope.  Hermione smiled as she pulled out a huge stack of paper and neatly laid the pile on her lap.  "Well that certainly is a pleasant surprise."  She added, "During my research I found out that Dumbledore was quite instrumental in revising the laws surrounding the use of Time Turners.  Aside of the main laws written in 1704 – a bit before Dumbledore's time, the last major updates were in 1904, 1944 and 1958.  Dumbledore chaired the committees in 1944 and 1958.  Once I do a bit more background work, I will see if he has time for an interview."  Picking up the papers, she began to read.

"Well, what does it say?" Ron asked.

"The most recent 10 years or so of data is still confidential and are not included," she said.  "They have 1985 and earlier.  I see the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes used the devices most-- mainly when a major accident occurred.  I suppose it would be more effective to briefly go back in time to 'stop' the accident instead of trying to reverse the memories of a thousand or so Muggles.  Required a signed court order.  Hmm… interesting…"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Some have received permission when doing magical experiments," she said.  "It says here: 'In very limited cases, and with advance approval, a researcher in Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, or other magical related functions may see permission for use of a Time Turner.  If given, the Time Turner is to be used by a partner, in a safe location, so that the wizard or witch may observe the experiment and reverse time should the experiment go awry.  This would prove a safety-net to support necessary, but often dangerous, magical research or research involving very rare, or expensive, potions ingredients to ensure appropriate government thrift."

"Too bad Neville didn't know about this," Ron said, "We could have signed a petition for him to use this in Potions class."

"You are not being kind," Hermione said, lowering the paper she was reading.  "And, I daresay that there were a few times where you could have benefited as well."  She flipped through a few more pages.  "The rest are student or faculty uses.  Not very many mind you, and mainly for a specific project, not for a whole year."  

"That's because you're special, Hermione," Harry laughed.

She perused through a few more pages.  "Let's see.  Oh, here it is.  'Hogwart students with year-round privileges.'  Used exclusively for taking extra classes when there was a scheduling conflict."

"See anyone we know?" Ron asked.

"Bartemius Couch, Jr.," Hermione said.  "Used the Time Turner during fourth year.  Disengaged from use April, 1975.  Reason: Time Turner broken."

"The idiot broke it?" Ron laughed.  "More than likely some Slytherin swiped it, used it and somehow broke it.  I wouldn't break the thing, I'd have too much fun with it."

"That is probably why they would turn down your application," Hermione said.  "They are to be treated with respect, not like a toy."

"Any others?" Harry asked.

"No one I recognize.  Wait," Hermione set the page on the table and sat back.  "Tom M. Riddle."

"Voldemort!" Harry hissed, quickly lowering his voice.

"From his second through his sixth year," Hermione said.  "Received 18 OWLS…" she looked at Harry and then Ron in turn; they all were quite surprised.  "He must have never slept."

"Or used the turner to get some sleep," Ron interjected.  "That would be my main use.  And rearranging Snape's supply closet."

"Excuse me," Hermione said, "Is that a Prefect Badge on your robes?"

"A guy can dream a little, can't he?" Ron said to Hermione teasingly.  "Heh, all you could think to do was save a guy's life."

"Saved all of our lives really," Harry said.  "We would have been Dementor food for sure.  It's scary," Harry continued, slipping down into the seat some more, "that we, or at least I, should have died that night."

"Harry," Hermione said, closing her eyes.  "The clarification was not about you.  Okay, happy now?"  Seeing the boys simply stare at her, she sighed.  Changing the subject back, she said, "Says here that Riddle was forced to turn in the time turner, as per instructions from the Council of Time and Matter, headed by Albus Dumbledore.  All uses of the time turner were suspended due to investigation.  It seems that Riddle…"

"Used the time turner to murder his first victim and then covered it up?" Ron finished the sentence.

"No," Hermione said.  "Used it to… I don't believe this… saved several lives, but later was reprimanded for taking the Time Turner with him over the summer."

"Probably used it over the summer to kill his family and then go back in time to secure his alibi," Harry said.  "Does it say who he saved?"

Hermione flipped through the paper.  Attached were copies of a few relevant old Daily Prophet articles.  Whoever sent this to her was quite thorough.  She scanned the article and the photo and passed it along, "Lucretia Malfoy.  Seems she and her brother, Lucifer, were on the Slytherin Quidditch team.  The two got into a little tiff and he cursed a Bludger to go after her.  The first time around the thing crushed her skull."

"Lovely," Harry said, cringing.  Being a victim of a runaway Bludger himself, he could sympathize with the situation.  Summarizing for Ron, he said, "Says here that Riddle, a sixth year Chaser, was present when Lucifer Malfoy, a seventh year and Slytherin Seeker, cursed the Bludger and sent it at his sister, Lucretia, who was a fifth year Keeper.  At first, the rest of the team thought it was a prank, but it was apparent that Lucifer's curse was very potent.  The team tried to stop the Bludger and a few students who were watching went for help.  The girl was stuck on the head with such force that…" Harry grimaced.  "The Daily Prophet did not leave much to the imagination back then."  Clearing his throat, he continued, "Radagast Lestrange, enraged, pursued Lucifer in a broom chase and the two ended up falling several hundred feet to their deaths.  Riddle, seeing this, decided to use the Time Turner, went back and hour, and managed to body bind Lucifer in the Slytherin Changing room."

"You need witnesses for something like this," Ron said.  

Harry held up his hand, "The story was corroborated by the Head Girl, Minerva MacDougal, who stated that she saw two Tom Riddles at the same time.  One flying around the Quidditch pitch with the rest of his teammates chasing a rogue Bludger while the other Tom Riddle was running towards the dungeons.  Both she and Riddle were interrogated under Veritaserum."

"Do you think that was McGonagall?" Harry asked, looking up.  Seeing his friends nod in agreement, he continued.  "Melkor Lestrange and Thuban Malfoy both issued statements; 'Both the Lestrange and Malfoy families owe an enormous debt to Mr. Riddle.  If it were not for his actions, two of Europe's oldest pureblood wizarding families would have ended with this tragedy.  Our families owe Mr. Riddle debt which shall be honored generations to come – our bloodline owes our very existence to him and our loyalty and appreciation shall not know any bounds."

"And thus," Hermione said, shaking, as she took the article back from Harry, "began the Death Eaters."

~***~

"It has been years…" Lestrange walked around the room.  "Of course it looks a bit different than last time."  The witch had apparently just returned to the castle as took off her scarf and cloak which were soaked from the rain.  Harry watched as the witch conjured a rack and laid the items on it.  With a quick flick of her wand, he heard a very soft sizzling sound as the items dried.  Harry noted that she took after McGonagall in her dress.  Lestrange wore a conservative gray and black dress that lacked the explosion of color or eclectic designs favored by most of the faculty.  Like McGonagall, her hair was tied into a neat bun and her long fingers were well manicured, sporting a very light pink polish.  She wore simply jewelry; a silver snake on a light silver chain, a small silver women's wristwatch that looked ancient and quite valuable, a silver pin that was made up of miniature coat of arms.  All the pieces, save for a ring on her left hand, were understated and tidy.  The ring, Harry could not help but notice as it seemed so out of place, was a large emerald circumscribed by smaller diamonds sat on her demure hand.  It reminded him, in an abstract way, of Trelawney's glasses – large and almost comical.

"The room changes to suit ones needs," Harry said, walking over to a simple, but sturdy, bookshelf that was stacked with books about Occlumency and Legumency.  Aside from the bookcase and two comfortable looking chairs that faced one another was a small table with a basic medi-kit and, over in the corner a wide tall object, or objects, was covered with a tarp.

"Hmm," the Professor replied as she studied the room.  "A bit different than before.  Well, imagine that, it is still here."

"What's that, ma'am?" Harry asked, eager to find a suitable spot to break the ice.  "I take it that you have been in here before?"

"You were not the only one who has ever come up with the idea to teach 'secret' classes."  She tapped a small crack on the wall, "I sent a classmate sailing into this.  Headfirst.  Hurt the wall far more than he –" She stopped abruptly and then felt the crack on the wall with her fingers.  Harry watched the somber expression on her face, the bittersweet memories for a brief instant getting the better of her.  "Anyhow," she said quickly, dropping her hand and walking over to the tall, tarp-covered object.  "Unless the Headmaster needs storage, I would surmise this is something we need, yes?" Not waiting for an answer to her rhetorical question, she reached up with her left hand, while her wand was firmly fixed in her right, as she waved her left hand with a single fluid motion.

"No Boggarts," Harry said, looking around.  The tarp removal, he guessed, she did with the wave of her hand, saving her wand magic for something more potent or unexpected.  His eyes then locked on the exposed objects – twin mirrors – one he recognized immediately.  "The left one is the Mirror of Erised – it is an enchanted mirror," he offered.

In a quick second, Harry could feel himself being pulled and he instantly transported to a different part of the room at an oblique angle to the mirrors and with the witch between he and them.  The sudden, unexpected movement made his stomach churn, but it was no worse than a very quick turn during a Quidditch match.

"What do they do?" Lestrange asked, still facing the mirrors, ensuring their reflection was found in neither.

"The one shows ones hearts deepest desires," Harry said with a sigh.  "It doesn't really do anything to you, but Dumbledore has warned me that viewing it can consume you and if you let it, it can drive you mad.  That, I suppose, makes it dangerous."

"Most enchanted mirrors – including a few intended for everyday uses – normally are quite dangerous.  You never know what they can do, or who may be looking back.  My uncle had a mirror that captures Muggle-borns.  The moment their image is caught, they disappear from our world and enter the mirror one," Lestrange said.  "It used to hang in their main receiving room, but with the influx of Muggle-borns into influential positions, Lucifer found that capturing politicians in this manner made one not only a poor host, but under suspect for meddling with Dark Arts.  He gave it to his son, my cousin, and I could only guess its use and whereabouts now."  She carefully approached the left-hand mirror and studied it.  "Erised… Desire as it reflects in the mirror.  Now the other…" She looked at the second, again, making sure that her image appeared in nether, "I would assume it is its twin.  All mirrors have an equal, or opposite, depending on how you would look at it, although not necessarily, it is believed, both exist in our plane.  Some say that there is an entire room in the Department of Mysteries devoted simply to mirrors and their study.  Their magic is quite powerful.  It is said that when you look in a mirror, you are looking at your other self.  Some say that self is your complete opposite while others say that self is you as you are in this plane, but simply following a different course in life.  Where you turned left, they turned right, but the Fates weave their tapestries so tight that at the same precise moment you look in the mirror, they look back."

"And if you die in this world, you die in the other," Harry said, following the logic to some conclusion.

"Probably," Lestrange said simply.  "My great-grandfather told me once when I was a child that there was an ancient superstition that vampires are the result of ones counterpart dying in the parallel world.  We are connected, he said, that our souls are bound by an invisible force and our parallel lives gives us some sort of anchor.  When one side lives without another, it is said that their souls become unstable – cursed if you will – and as such they cannot see their reflections."  She sighed, "Of course, we know now that not just vampires cannot see their reflection, sometimes some of their victims, so I suppose the yarn is not true.  Interesting, but not one to take seriously, I suppose."  Lestrange then studied the second mirror, the one Harry had never seen before.  It, like Erised, was tall and made with an ornately carved frame.  But it was far darker and foreboding and he instinctively knew that there was something wrong.  "Its name must be 'Nioserva,' Lestrange pronounced.  "Let's see, if it follows the same pattern as its twin, "Gaze upon me to look into the abyss; nightmares and fears that fuel your Adversion.'"  

"I prefer Erised," Harry said, but Lestrange did not answer.  "I wonder why they are here?"  He paused for a few moments and looked at Erised longingly.  "Ma'am, since you are here and the mirror is not one that sucks people into it, would it be possible for me to…" Harry motioned to the mirror.  "Just for a few moments."

Lestrange looked at Harry and nodded.  "Keep away from the other.  I will questions Dumbledore about it later."

Harry walked up to the mirror and watched as his parents came into view and then Sirius.  He placed his hand on the glass, gently touching his mother's face and then looked at Sirius.  Sirius didn't look drawn or disheveled, but healthy and handsome, as if the years of Azkaban were simply a figment of his imagination.  "I am so sorry Sirius," Harry said.  "Forgive me."  He stood for a few moments wordlessly looking at the mirror, stroking his hand gently against the glass.  

"Mr. Potter," a voice came from behind him.  He felt a tug on his robe.  He turned to watch the witch regarding him.  Her expression tempered and he could not guess what she was thinking, but it was apparent that her patience was running thin.  "We should begin this sometime.  I am not willing to stay past four."

Harry nodded and stepped away, heading for one of the chairs.  Noticing that Lestrange was not immediately following, he paused and turned.  "Maybe you would like to try it?  I can pull you away after a few minutes."

Lestrange looked back at him, her gray eyes meeting his green for a second.  She took a couple of quick steps and a quarter turn to fully face the mirror.

"It is said that the happiest man in the world would only see himself and nothing else," Harry said.

"That is because there is nothing else he would desire," Lestrange said softly.  Harry watched as her eyes darted as she scanned the mirror and then she laughed.  It was a high-pitched laugh, dripping with regret.  "Worse would be someone having exactly what they've always desired in real life, yet still seeing it in the mirror."  She turned to Harry and walked towards him, "The old adage of 'be careful of what you wish for' is indeed quite true.  You can receive what you desire, but sometimes that journey accompanies deep sorrow."  Taking the seat across from the boy, she asked, "How is Sirius Black?" When Harry balked, she said, "I heard you asking for forgiveness."

Harry turned slightly red realizing that he exposed a secret to someone quite willing, he surmised, to use it against him.  "I know that it isn't him and I know that one cannot really talk to the dead.  But it did give me some closure," Harry explained.

"Well some closure helps to quell the mind and focus at the task at hand," Lestrange said as she looked at the mirror.  "For me, I believed it raised more issues which I must learn to control.  Then, perhaps, there is some reason they are here."  She looked at the boy and then gently touched her cheek.  Harry could barely see the remnants of the Dementor claws on her face, healed but some fading marks remained.  "I understand that you have taught others to form solid Patronus?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, confused at the direction this was going.

"Then perhaps we can strike a bit of a deal?"

~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~


	16. Memoirs of a Nervous Illness

Sorry it's been so long, but I've been VERY busy. I hope this chapter makes up for it – a bit longer but quite entertaining (in my opinion, anyhow). I had it written for some time (shortly after the last chapter), but couldn't get it 'quite right'. I'm still not 100% happy with it in some areas, but I didn't want to hold it up any longer. Thanks for your continued support and patience.  
  
Please do leave comments, if you can. Of course, emails to me if you want to mention something in depth are welcome as well. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy.  
  
~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~  
  
Chapter 16 – Memoirs of a Nervous Illness  
  
Harry stared out the cold train compartment window watching as the Scottish countryside raced by. His breath occasionally fogged the window, distorting the blur of white and browns that rolled passed with each clacking of the wheels on the track - each revolution hurling him closer towards where he least wanted to be. Exactly one year ago he was on his way to Grimmauld Place to spend Christmas with Sirius. Harry chocked back the anger as he remembered decorating the tree, singing carols and enjoying a modest, but well met, meal. But this year there was no Sirius and the only things that remained were shards of his gift, fragment memories of too few good times, and the cutting realization of how his own arrogance - his own insistence that only he knew the right way to go about things-- led to his Godfather's death.  
  
And from that a deeper regret and swelling anger that perhaps Snape was right about him all along.  
  
Hearing a soft clatter, Harry turned his head and watched as Ginny tossed some chipped second-hand wooden runes into a shallow box. The young red- haired witch rearranged the tiles with a few flicks of the wand and then took up her quill and notebook, hastily copying down a few notes while referencing a tattered, dog-eared book that was marked with a wide green silk ribbon with the letters R.A.M.L embroidered at the top. Harry tilted his head to read the spine. The embossed printing was worn with age and use, but eventually he made out the title: "Practical Rune Divination."  
  
Allowing his companion to work undisturbed, the young wizard closed his eyes and exhaled, returning to his introspective self-lashing. Opening his eyes and turning his head to stare out the window again, he considered for a moment the good fortune that only Sirius' life had been lost -- as Hermione herself was badly injured and could just as easily been killed. He lifted his head off the glass and sat back in the seat, carefully pacing his breath as he practiced an exercise to quell his thoughts and emotions. Although Voldemort had been driven from his mind the past summer, Harry could occasionally feel the powerful dark wizard trying to regain entry; the tiny scratches and subtle probes that the marked the Dark Wizard's methodical attempts. By refusing to yield to his emotions, Harry had been, thus far, successful in keeping Voldemort at bay. And, he considered silently, his own self-loathing would only make easier work for Voldemort and do little to change what had happened.  
  
What was done was done. Water under the bridge. Spilt milk. A shattered mirror...  
  
He practiced his breathing as he had done many times this past semester during his tutoring with Lestrange and as routine before bedtime. The sessions with Lestrange were long and tedious and as the weeks wore on, Harry noted how he quickly gained the upper hand. Although he liked to think he was more powerful, he could see the strain wearing on the witch; the stress wearing deeper lines in her face and darker circles under her eyes as the days and weeks passed.  
  
During their Sunday sessions, she would arrive dressed in her heavy wool cloak, apparently returning from Hogsmeade or somewhere from outside of Hogwarts. On Wednesdays she would rush in, often late by a few minutes, but her aloof aristocratic demeanor would never permit her to apologize for her tardiness. Her stuffed satchel, straining the seams with ancient tomes, parchments, scrolls, and – he suspected from the noise of clanking glass – a goodly assortment of potions, would have burst if were it not for a series of charms that unnaturally strengthened and lightened the bag. She would breeze in, as flighty as a bee, motioning for him to sit down as she prepared. He would use this time to clear his mind, burying his thoughts on whether she was friend or foe, compartmentalized his hatred of Snape, expel his guilt for unfortunate deeds... but he could never fully extinguish his pity that Lestrange was a victim of circumstance.  
  
Just like he.  
  
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a neat folded parchment, a prepayment for some services he still had to render but both he and Lestrange agreed to hold off until after break. He carefully unfolded the paper and stared at the runes that lay in what appeared to be a haphazard pattern on the paper. She refused to see the future, and Harry surmised that it was either that she knew Dumbledore would find out, she was too weak, or more than likely some elements of both. But she had offered three clarifications in exchange for him teaching her how to properly do the Patronus charm. The first, the one that he held in his hand, was locked by an Enigmus charm and would be readable on Christmas. The others she would perform as he provided the lessons that would begin after winter break.  
  
It was their little secret, fueled, he suspected, by her chilling encounter with the Dementor over Halloween and completed by his own desire for closure. Despite who she was and their circumstances, he allowed himself to share a tenuous bond; they each held secrets from each others minds-- scenes, thoughts, and emotions that accidentally leaked or were forced loose from their training. Harry knew she saw the images of Dudley, Aunt Marge and the others taunting him; she witnessed his happiness as he received and finally read his Hogwarts letter; she saw how his friends helped him through his darkest hours and how he recoiled and boiled in anger at sight of the young Tom Riddle standing over Ginny's near lifeless body. He knew she saw scores of other memories but he noted that she made no critique or comment other than to tell him to refocus and clear his mind. And, when he saw her countless images and memories, more detailed and vivid in the more recent sessions as her fatigue showed, he simply nodded and said that it was such a blur that he could make out nothing of importance, but certainly Voldemort or another more powerful wizard would certainly be able to.  
  
It communicated what he needed while allowing both to save face.  
  
She remembered herself as thin, scrawny girl with large teeth and bushy hair, always with a book and always plotting some way to get near Snape. An unkempt recluse who preferred sneaking into the restricted section of the library over perusing the latest edition of Witch Weekly, a little witch who was clever and sly, but homely and sheltered by her brothers who treated her like a fragile pet and ensured that any who tried to taunt her felt their wrath. Not coming from a loving household, Harry couldn't understand what was normal, but there were underlying elements of loyalty between the siblings and a sense of understanding and perhaps even affection, between her and Snape. The dark muses wove a complex fabric with her life and the same elements that kept her sane and secure were the very ones that could eventually take her life. But of all the memories; happy, sad, intimate and terrifying, there was one that he saw only once and quite briefly that took his interest more than the others. It was a memory of his father—James and she were in a tunnel. She had turned to look onto James and he was clutching a tear in his robe, blood tricking through his clenched fingers and he was screaming for her to run.  
  
The memory was only for a split second, but Harry had every detail burned into his mind.  
  
"I swear that they are completely out of control!" Hermione exclaimed and she and Ron walked into the compartment, slamming the door shut. Harry jumped and quickly folded the paper and put it back in his pocket.  
  
"Who?" Ginny asked. She quickly wrote down a few more notes and began to put away her items, making room for her two friends and Luna and Neville who were following right behind.  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said. "Colin Creevey had the misfortune of running into them. They grabbed a fistful of hair before deciding to try to shove him out the window. Fortunately Malfoy saw us coming and told them to stop."  
  
"Had we not been on duty, I'm afraid that Colin would have had to walk to Edinburgh for the next train to London!" Hermione protested. "We should file a report!"  
  
"Nothing is going to happen to Malfoy, as it did 'appear' that he was trying to intervene..." Ron interjected.  
  
"He was laughing until he saw us!" Hermione countered. Grabbing an offered paper and quill from Ginny, she began to write.  
  
"Dear gods, you're not sending a copy to Snape as well?" Ron rolled his eyes. "He'll see your name and throw it in the fire without reading it."  
  
"It is procedure to send a copy to the offending Prefect's Head of House," Hermione replied, not looking up. "What Professor Snape elects to do with it is hardly my concern. However, Malfoy is on probation and if Professor Snape overlooks too much, Dumbledore may intervene."  
  
"Whatever," Ron said, waving his hand and simply sitting back in the seat. "Harry, do you have a ride?"  
  
"Uncle Vernon is picking me up," Harry said. "Moody, Lupin and the gang are going to play look-out to make sure no one follows us. There have been some odd folks around Little Whinging asking questions about me. Fortunately, all the people in my immediate neighborhood never knew my last name and most never knew my first for that matter, so that helps, and I suspect that Dumbledore might have been placing a few pre-emptive spells."  
  
"Does that have to do with last summer?" Luna asked. "My father had heard that there was a big cover up mid-summer at the ministry. Something about you, but he never did find out."  
  
"Someone who shouldn't have accidentally found out where I lived. Dumbledore since then has put memory charms on just about everyone except Ron, his parents, and Hermione. Even Mad Eye Moody and Remus Lupin had something done to them," Harry explained.  
  
"There is a rumor that Dumbledore put a Memory-Blotting potion in the Ministry drinking fountains and kitchen beverage dispensers so that everyone would forget. I also heard a rumor that he did a very advanced Erasing Charm that altered most records about you. At least information regarding your relatives names and where you live," Luna continued. "Father said he tried to do a basic look up and couldn't find a thing. He's quite skilled in research, so it sounds like a conspiracy to me. Besides, wouldn't a Fidelus charm be simpler?"  
  
"Considering it failed for my parents, I think Dumbledore wanted to try another means," Harry said. As he thought about it, all the effort did not make sense and it almost appeared, if he did not know better, that Dumbledore did not really know whom to trust. Seeing that option being quite uncomfortable to consider, Harry decided that perhaps it was for everyone else's good so they would not become targets—it might not be the case, but the thought was more reassuring. "So far I am safe, and I hope to convince him that I only need to stay a week with them before I can go somewhere else. Needless to say, this is probably going to be a very uneventful Christmas."  
  
~***~  
  
"Mistress care for more tea?" Kreacher lifted the pot and motioned towards the delicate porcelain cup. He looked on as the witch offered her cup, her hand shaking so violently that the little bit of tea that remained splashed over the side and onto the floor. The elf quickly grabbed the cup and sat it down on a nearby table. He regarding the witch for a moment, her disheveled hair fell unbound around her face reminding the elf of a dirty brown mop. Deep black circles entombed her gray eyes and her face and cheeks were sunken giving a more skeletal appearance to her already bony face. The elf had served the Black household-- now the Snape household as he mentally corrected himself-- for several centuries. It was not the first time that a witch went mad, but certainly a record for so early in the marriage. "Perhaps Mistress would like to lay down? Or perhaps have Mistress' personal elf draw a bath?"  
  
Ruedella sprung up from the chair, channeling a spring of newfound energy. She spun around disoriented and then her face drew into a wide smile. She remembered being carried inside and she remembered this house. She spun on heel a few more times, eventually losing her balance and falling on her rear. She looked at the elf and smiled. "Regulus, you look like a house elf! Did Barty hex you again?"  
  
"Mistress!" the elf screeched. "Kreacher is not Master Regulus, Master Regulus is long... gone. Master said that Mistress was ill, that Mistress was working hard for the Dark Lord and that Master has given Mistress many potions over the past two month to help. Waking potions, speed potions, calming potions, memory potions, and even some time altering potions so Mistress would have enough time to complete Mistress' tasks. Master will be back soon and that Kreacher was to keep an eye on Mistress to ensure nothing befalls Mistress. When Master returns... Master had an important appointment."  
  
Ruedella laughed in a high-pitched squeal. She fell backwards on the floor and looked straight up. "What are those, Regulus?"  
  
"The family tapestries, Mistress," Kreacher said, aiding the witch to her feet. One of the younger elves appeared to clear away the dishes and fortunately was astute enough to bring over a chair as the elder elf steadied the unstable witch. Helping her into the chair, the elf pointed to the largest tapestry in the center. "The manor now belongs to the House of Snape, Mistress. Master is the son of Nefarius Black and the last remaining Snape."  
  
"Severus..." Ruedella said. "You mean Severus is the Master?" She laughed out loud. "Now that is rich, Severus 'Snivellus' Snape lord and master." She stopped and looked at the elf. "Why do you call me Mistress, Regulus?"  
  
The elf bit its lower lip, electing not to correct his Mistress as she was obviously of not the right mind and continuing on the course would probably end with him being clothed. Although the notion of handing her an axe and seeing what she would do, given her condition, did have some significant appeal. "Mistress is Master's wife. Mainly."  
  
Ruedella looked at the tapestry and saw her name next to Severus' connected by two silver threads. She studied the other three tapestries, a Black, a Lestrange and a Malfoy. Each was constructed in the same manner and as her head stopped spinning, she did recall the last two being from her own ancestral home. "The rest of the threads are in gold. Why aren't we in gold?"  
  
"Because Mistress has not given Master," the elf said, clearing his throat, searching for the right way to express it. "Mistress and Master have not finished binding the contract."  
  
"Oh..." Ruedella said, stifling a laugh. She recalled Rodolphus and Bellatrix wedding night when she and Rabastan watched the tapestry as the crosses joining their names turned from silver to gold, signaling the exact moment they consummated their marriage. The voyeurism certainly surpassed anything else offered on the Wizarding Wireless Network including the premium broadcasts that her father used to watch in his study.  
  
She slumped in the chair, slowly rubbing her face. "I remember... Runes..." she said with a giddy air, as the temporary lucidity passed and her mind wandered again. "Working on a project," she whispered as she turned to the elf, with her finger to her lip and a somber, scared expression on her face, "Shhh... very important. The Potter boy tried to get it out of my mind, but I kept him out..." She said the last with a smug air and a slight, girlish giggle. "I even kept it from Dumbledore himself..." she said the last sadly with a sigh of resignation.  
  
"Yes, Mistress, quite an accomplishment," Kreacher said, fetching a pillow and fluffing it for the witch. "Kreacher heard from Mistress Black's portrait that Mistress and Master are to meet with the Dark Lord soon." The elf turned to the side and added under his breath, "Assuming Master fixes Mistress for the task." He felt a cold hand around his neck and he yelped as the witch dragged him closer.  
  
"You know what Regulus?" she pointed her finger at the Malfoy tapestry, "Lucius' son has the divination ability of a Mudblood... no..." she chortled, her grey eyes drowned in a giddy glaze, "a Muggle. He has the talent of a bloody Muggle. A bloody Muggle could throw runes and in some random chance create a more compelling clarification..." She gave the elf a crazed toothy smile, "Oh I would love to tell Lucius. Perhaps I should wait until I am in front of the Dark Lord? To properly humiliate him for all those years of thinking he was better than us..." She gestured at the tapestry again and added, "Grandmother married a Malfoy, but her grandmother was born one. The talent may pass through the male bloodline too, but I don't think warlocks possess it... I could be wrong... but over there..." She pointed to blown off portions that existed on both the Malfoy and Black tapestries. "I wonder if it went over there too... lost... hidden..."  
  
"Kreacher doubts that the ability went to blood traitors. Mistress Black has told me all about Mistress, and that Kreacher should treat Mistress just like Kreacher treated Mistress Black. Mistress Black said that the other portraits have heard whispers about Mistress, favorable whispers." The elf began to turn so that it could leave the witch for a few moments, hoping time would sober her mind. "When Mistress is feeling better, Mistress Black would like to talk with Mistress - it has been since summer - "  
  
"Summer?" Ruedella looked at the elf and then to her watch. "The sixth hand is on chi and the twelfth is on... err... Regulus, what day is it?"  
  
"The first day of winter break, Mistress. You were at Hogwarts..." Kreacher began slowly, his eyes occasionally darting over to the door hoping Master would arrive soon.  
  
"I have to be at King Cross station!" Ruedella jumped from her chair. "Father would probably send Rodolphus to fetch us! Rodolphus doesn't care for us to be late. I am never late... but Rabastan..." she stomped her foot on the floor. Padding herself, she found her wand and rushed over to the fireplace. Grabbing an urn, she opened it, finding nothing she threw it on the ground, smashing it and then grabbed another and then another until she found the floo powder.  
  
"Mistress!" Kreacher yelped. "Mistress does not have to be at King Cross station! Mistress is home. Mistress must wait here for Master!" The elf leapt and grabbed the witch around the waist, trying to hold her back. His watery eyes flew open wide as the witch stepped towards the fire.  
  
~***~  
  
Harry stood in line, leaning against his cart, as the porters unloaded the train and stacked the luggage in neat piles; first by house and then by year. Waiting his turn, he looked around, taking in his surroundings. Down platform 9 ¾ he could see wizard parent arriving via floo and a few disapparating in designated spots with soft pops. He smiled and nodded to those who recognized him, good naturedly taking a few friendly pats on the arms by well wishers. Taking another survey, he saw Shackelbolt at the main exit; the large bald wizard was casually reading a newspaper. Not far away stood Remus Lupin and Mad Eye Moody, who were apparently engaged in some discussion and otherwise trying to blend into the crowd. Well, at least as much as Mad Eye could blend in anywhere.  
  
Retrieving his luggage and Hedwig, he pushed the cart towards the exit, constantly looking around as he walked. He assumed that although he only saw the three wizards, there were others in disguise or otherwise hidden in the crowd. He paused, as the line was slow and turned to try to find at least one of his friends. As he scanned the faces, he tried to guess which of the adults were simply parents versus guards, passing his time until a loud noise caught his attention. At the far end of the platform, he noticed a witch popping from the floo with a house elf attached to her waist. At first he did not recognize her, but did immediately recognize the treacherous Kreacher, and then realized it was Professor Lestrange. The woman stumbled along the platform, her hair tangled and knotted and her dress decidedly quite unkempt. She twirled around trying to shake off the elf as she hit the thing soundly with her fists.  
  
"RABASTAN!" she yelled into the crowd. "RABASTAN! Rodolphus will be here shortly! If we make him wait, Father will allow him to practice curses on us!" She paused and grabbed a young girl in a Slytherin cloak by the arm. "You, where is the Slytherin luggage... fourth year..." She let go of the girl and stumbled towards the luggage, a spot quite near the exit line in which Harry was standing. The line had stopped moving, as everyone on the platform was watching the witch, unsure what to do or if they should even help. Lestrange approached the luggage, still struggling with Kreacher, who was now pleading with her. Taking out her wand, she zapped the elf with some obscure curse, laughing as the elf sailed down the platform and landed squarely in the Hufflepuff area, making a couple of hard bounces as it ricocheted off the trunks.  
  
"My luggage!" Lestrange roared as she dug through the pile. She stopped and panned her eyes along the various trunks and cases, eventually looking up squarely at Harry. She froze as she stared at him and then with a whimper she cautiously made her way over. "Potter?" she whispered.  
  
"Yes, Professor..." Harry said.  
  
The witch grabbed his hand-me-down sweater, rubbing the material between her fingers. "Odd clothing Potter," she said, "I thought your family was one with means." Making eye contact again, Harry could see her drift off, her eyes becoming cloudy and dull. Then, a split second later, her eyes flew open, clear, and she shrieked. "How did you... the blood..." she stepped back, vigorously rubbing her arms. "It... the blood... spotted the walls." She laid her hand on Harry's shoulder, her fingers slowly sliding down and then grabbing Harry's right arm, turning it over slowly. "The bite..." she looked up and then closed her eyes, "Are you a... now...?" She licked her lips and let go of his arm, "The other day Quirrell said he saw Barty on the third floor landing at 1 pm, but Barty and I were in the library..." She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Lestrange whipped around to face Moody, who had pushed his way through the crowd.  
  
"That's enough," Moody said softly trying to calm her. "Been a busy time and you need some sleep. Interference between the Runespoor eggs and some sort of time altering potion, I'd wager. And a few other potions..." Moody frowned as he reached for his wand. "Can't imagine who'd be supplying you... just a quick sleeping spell and..." He was about to issue the spell when the witch struck his hand, causing him to lose his grip, his long wand flew from his fingers and fell to the ground.  
  
"MURDER!" Lestrange screamed at the top of her lungs, pointing to Remus. "MURDER!" She began to shake, her darkened eyes overflowing with tears. "He killed them! Ripped them..."  
  
"ENOUGH!" a deep voice bellowed. Harry watched as Snape stepped out from the crowd and for a brief moment he was relieved to see him. The wizard swooped over and grabbed the witch, and with a fluid movement, produced a small green vial and leveled it to her lips. Lestrange took the potion without hesitation and was unconscious a second later. With a wave of his hand, Snape kept her standing and stable as he reached into his cloak and producing another vial, this one containing brilliant sapphire blue liquid.  
  
"She sure as hell did not need any more of your concoctions!" Moody said. "I see a potions overdose when I see one. Gods only know what is flowing through her..."  
  
"The gods and I know exactly..." Snape snapped back. He spun on heel and faced Harry. "Enjoyed the display, a little chuckle to enjoy over break?"  
  
"I hope she is fine," Harry said. "Obviously a bit of... over work. I hope the break doesn't make things worse." With that, Harry turned and pushed his cart, ignoring the queue and headed straight for the exit.  
  
~***~  
  
"Were you going to have me wait all day?" Vernon Dursley's agitated voice boomed.  
  
"There was a disruption," Harry said quickly. "Unavoidable."  
  
"Well you'd think that with all their mumbo-jumbo that they'd be a bit more orderly," the man huffed.  
  
"Sometimes the 'mumbo-jumbo' causes more problems than it solves," Harry said quickly, hoping the depreciating comment would placate the man so he wouldn't hear the rant the entire way back to Privet Drive.  
  
"Harry!" a cheerful voice called out. "I'd like to take a photo!"  
  
"You have a million photos of me Colin," Harry called back.  
  
"C'mon!" the boy groveled, running up to Harry. "Just one of you and your Uncle. Hey, that would work." The boy took a couple of quick steps back and took the shot. "Maybe another, I didn't get your Uncle to smile."  
  
"Forget about it," Harry said between clenched teeth. He looked at Colin for a moment. "Shouldn't you be in street clothes?"  
  
"Oh, got so busy taking pictures I forgot to change. Without the robe it looks like any other stupid Muggle school uniform." Colin countered. "Sir," he looked at Dursley, who was turning a delicious shade of lavender. "Your name... for the scrapbook..."  
  
"You There!" another voice shouted. "Keep moving unless you want me to paint a target on your head!" Moody hobbled briskly up to Harry and Dursley, shooing his bowler at him. He leaned over to Vernon who was trying to move away. "I have some of my people putting an anti-following charm and a disguise charm on your car. Heard that 'they' might have people here trying to follow you. We'll keep a close eye on things, but standing around waiting for something to happen isn't going to save your skin."  
  
"How dare you!" Vernon shouted back. "Defacing my vehicle... and my name is Vernon Dursley, not 'You There'!"  
  
"Fine, let them slit your throat in the middle of the night," Moody shrugged.  
  
"The charms will wear off once we reach home?" Vernon repeated rhetorically with a controlled tone of voice.  
  
"They will, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "We should be going."  
  
Colin waved goodbye and smiled. "Vernon Dursley," he said, committing the name to memory.  
  
~***~  
  
Severus Snape stood by the tall, ornate cage that sat in his private rooms. Opening the door he received the large male Eagle Owl on his arm, taking a few minutes to carefully stroke the owl's rich feathers. The female stood on a perch nearby, cocking its head slightly watching her mate. As a boy Severus always wanted an owl, but his mother was never able to afford one. As an adult he certainly earned enough money, but elected to use his income to purchase heirlooms and books—such expenditure would be an unnecessary luxury given Hogwarts had plenty of suitable owls.  
  
With a flick of his fingers and a quick incantation, the nearby window and shutters blew open. The cold December air was instantly warmed with a charm, allowing the benefit of fresh air with out the frigid bite. Although the house elves had made considerable progress with restoring the house, the remaining stench of the Hippogriff - or was that of Sirius Black - was never completely cleaned from the Master Bedroom. That would simply require time. Attaching a few parchments to the owls, Severus sent them off, watching in satisfaction as they flew out the large window.  
  
"Shut it!" he heard a muffled request from under the pillows.  
  
"Feeling better are we?" Severus took a few steps to the bed and grabbed the comforter and sheets, ripping them off of her. "Up!" he commanded.  
  
"Ohhh..." Ruedella Lestrange bolted straight up. "Agg..." she moaned and grabbed her head and fell back down on the bed. "Bloody... hell..." she cursed as she pulled the pillow back onto her face.  
  
Opening a drawer in the nightstand, Severus picked up a waiting bottle and set it on the table. Grabbing the pillow, he yanked it away and threw it to the side. Pulling the protesting witch into a sitting position, he offered the bottle. "Drink," he said, unplugging the stopper with a practiced movement of his thumb. Squinting she took the vial and held it up. "It will take away the vertigo and light sensitivity," Severus said, sitting on the bed next to her.  
  
Ruedella took the potion in a quick motion. A smile crept over her face as the elixir took effect. She sighed and handed it back to him. "Thank you. It was all a blur." She paused and then looked around the room. Seeing that both she and he were in their nightclothes, albeit Severus was wearing a dressing robe in addition, and the rumpled sheets next to her indicated she had a bed partner, she screeched, pulled up her legs and rolled off the bed, opposite of the wizard. Patting her body, she spat, "You didn't!!"  
  
"We slept together, yes, as we are married and this is my room. However, do give me some credit in that I didn't take you while you were out cold," Severus replied. "That would be, well..."  
  
"Unsporting?" Ruedella finished his sentence with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Do not lie and tell me that you did not want this," Severus said, patting the bed next to him. "Come here." He watched as the witch cautiously climbed back on the bed and then scooted closer. Truth be told he spent most of the night in the chair next to the bed, unsure how to emotionally and physically deal with the intimacy of someone sleeping next to him – the very thought terrified him as much as one of the Dark Lord's tirades. "Your wand is on the nightstand, if you feel you need it."  
  
"What happened?" Ruedella asked, slowly moving towards the edge of the bed, but trying not to show that her ultimate goal was reaching her wand. "I remember taking Kreacher... or was that a dream?"  
  
"These are a side effect when time potions are consumed with conflicting substances. The leveling potions I gave you allowed your body to avoid the side effects of the various potions you were downing over the past several weeks. However, once you were done, I withheld the leveling potions and the effects, shall we say, hit you all at once." The wizard offered a smirk. "Yesterday the portkey dumped us about a half block from here. Fortunately the Muggles were at work, so I could carry you most of the way and into the house."  
  
"How romantic," Ruedella said. "I hope you didn't trip over the threshold."  
  
"It would have been a bit more memorable had you not been passed out like a drunken Knockturn Alley whore," Severus snapped. "But your condition was for a good purpose, so I will not hold it against you."  
  
"Such a forgiving man," Ruedella sniped. "So, I suppose that it would have been too difficult to give me something..."  
  
"Sometimes even the most potent magic is time," Severus replied. "I left you in Kreacher's care as I met with Dumbledore. Although I did tell the stupid little elf that you would be quite out of your mind, I did not realize that the elf lacked the basic magical skills to block the floo or at least body bind you – or the common sense to ask the other elves for assistance. You needed several hours, free of potions, for the residuals pass through your system. Once that was done, I could introduce a simple potion to address the pain and vertigo. However, the time potions you took to 'buy' extra research time must have interfered with the other potions and while your body was trying to recover, you had a series of vivid flashbacks." He paused and added, "You also announced to the crowd at Kings Cross Station that Remus Lupin was a werewolf and a murderer. Had it not been for the fact that I had to attend to you, it might have been amusing."  
  
"Lovely," Ruedella responded as she rubbed her face. She then motioned with her other hand for Severus to move. The wizard stood up and offered his hand, helping her off the bed as well.  
  
"I trust you are now feeling well?" Severus inquired evenly.  
  
"Yes, much better. Fit as ever. A pinch tired, but nothing..." Ruedella started to explain but was interrupted. Severus grabbed her hand and pulled her close.  
  
"I have a gift for you," he said, whispering in her ear. Motioning with his head towards the door, he commented, "Time to change the threads on the tapestry." He pulled Ruedella back and at her directly, noticing that the witch was scowling. "We have discussed this at least a dozen time. The Dark Lord intervened on Rodolphus' behalf. He did not feel that your games were productive and the Dark Lord felt that it best served his needs to make sure his Runes diviner was... shall we say... well kept?" The wizard gently rubbed her arm. "I do not wish to ever harm you – unless in self defense, of course. Lucius felt that..."  
  
"Lucius actually feels that although you are a blood Black, you are not of a status to marry into his family," Ruedella countered, pulling away and walking over to the nightstand. "Pureblood or not, he cannot get over that 'Borgin' blood. Nor what happened before you were born..."  
  
"Your Grandfather has, Rodolphus has, and the Dark Lord has, so despite how highly Lucius thinks of himself, his opinion is irrelevant," Severus countered. "I know that you would not consider the union to be unpleasant." He placed his hand on her face and gently stroked her hair. "I say that we make the most of the situation. I promise a most attractive gilded cage if you work with me."  
  
"A gilded cage?" Ruedella smiled and leaned into Severus hand. Taking the opportunity Severus leaned in, and kissed her. He could feel his cold thin lips warm on hers. Her body was stiff at first, but then relaxed as his hand moved onto her lower back, making small semi-circles. He moved his hand up, over her shoulder and began working the flexible material off of her shoulder. He allowed a small smile and disengaged from her mouth, kissing her down her face and neck towards her now bare shoulder.  
  
"That's better," he said, as he felt her untie his dressing robe.  
  
"Severus," her voice was soft and in his ear as he worked on her shoulder, his other hand now working on the other side in an effort to slide the nightgown completely off of her. "Severus, if you were me, would you enjoy the gilded cage?"  
  
"Of course," he said dismissively. With a quick movement, he pulled the nightgown down over her shoulders and down to her waist. He stepped back to admire her. She was thin, but defined in what mattered. "Only a fool in these dangerous times would not appreciate..." Snape paused, noticing a small flicker in her light grey eyes.  
  
He stepped back and reached for his wand, but the purple light of the spell caught him too soon, the force causing him to stumble backwards into the enormous owl cage as he emitted a loud, enraged bellow of pain.  
  
~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~  
  
Don't forget to leave a review, if you wish. I do appreciate the comments and hope you are enjoying the story. 


	17. Aunt Petunia's Surprising Christmas Secr...

Hello all! Sorry for the delay, but I've been on vacation for the past few weeks and work in-between. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the one that follows (which is written, but I'm editing now). As always, this is something for your enjoyment and my relaxation. Comments are appreciated so please chime in. I know that there's about 125 folks reading this, but I only hear from a handful. C'mon… don't be shy! 

Chapter 17 – Aunt Petunia's Surprising Christmas Secret 

Ollie Krepps hated Christmas. For thirty years he had been a postal carrier in Little Whinging and every year it was the same. He hated the oversized parcels, the ill-wrapped packages, the idiots who insisted on sending fragile items normal freight and without insurance so they could shave a few pence, and the residents went out of town without filling out a hold form and then later had the nerve to stop by the depot to complain about not being able to open their door. He hated how his back twinged as he carried the stacks and how his knee ached from too many last minute saves from icy pavements.

But it was the last delivery of the day and he finished relatively early. It was 4 pm and the sun had started to set; the few rays of light trickling through dark clouds. It threatened to snow - a fairly good pack, he thought as he inspected the horizon. Not normal in these parts to get much snow, but then again, things haven't been quite normal for awhile.

There was talk of odd folks about. Capes and odd hats, dark black garb and old-fashioned scarves. He heard many stories during his route and he assured each of his deliveries that it was probably some sort of Victorian Christmas revival – he was pretty sure he had read about it in the paper or the evening news.

Opening the back of the truck, he climbed inside and did a quick reorganization of undeliverable packages – bad addresses, signature required and the like that simply had to wait until after Christmas. As he lifted a particularly heavy package onto a small shelf and secured it in place, he heard a few soft pops.

"Damn," he cursed as he winced. Although he felt no pain, he instinctively reached for his back and rubbed it. A few sharp knocks on the side of the truck immediately gained his attention and he turned around. There were three people, one a dark-eyed woman with a thin-gaunt face, a man with graying bushy brown hair and a skeletal appearance, and another man with slightly dirty long blonde hair and piercing water-blue eyes. Ollie looked at the three and nodded and then turned back to his work. "Sorry, I can't make deliveries from the truck... regulations and all..." he said as he worked sorting the remaining mail. Hearing an uneasy silence, he stopped and turned back to the strangers and studied the clothing carefully. Not from the Victorian revival, but definitely unusual. It reminded him of old photos of his grandfather and father. Well tailored and of excellent quality but about forty or so years out of place.

"Do you know this man?" the blonde handed him a photo. "Vernon Dursley. The boy you might recognize as well. A Harry Potter..." The woman let out a hiss but was quickly silenced by the blonde man's icy glare.

"Might," Ollie said truthfully. He looked at the people in turn. "I sometimes substitute for other routes – when someone is ill and there's not enough normal subs the regular carries would split the route. Vaguely familiar, probably does live around here."

"We know that he lives around here, we need to know where!" the blonde said with clenched teeth.

"Well then," Ollie responded, handing back the photo. He was tempted to tell them to bugger off but something in his gut told him better. He rolled the name in his head and then recalled that 'ole Jack Samuels was sobbing last week about delivering a whole truck of packages to one location. Dursley, yes, the name was Dursley.

"Well then what?" the blonde demanded. "Or are you going to continue your mouth breathing?"

"Southwest side of the village," he replied. "However, why bother the postals? You can probably find the name in the phone book."

"What?" the dark-eyed woman bellowed. "How dare you waste our time! Do you know him...?"

"No I don't know him, but I am giving a suggestion," Ollie threw his hands up into the air. "Damn tourists..." he said just under his breath. "Look him up in the phone book already. Has his number and address..." He looked at the group and then jumped out of the truck, wincing as his back twinged. "Over there," he pointed at a small coffee shop down the street. "They're open for another hour or so, I am sure that they have a phone book there..."

The blonde gave a brusque nod and motioned for the others to proceed down the street. Ollie looked on as the blonde took up the rear, taking measured, deliberate paces. Then, the tall man turned and looked at him. A shiver passed up his spine; somewhere lurking in a shadowed, cold part of his brain sat a hooded, dark thought that sharing that little bit of information had just saved his life.

"Get up!"

Harry moaned and pulled the pillow over his head. It was the fifth night back at the Dursleys and the first night that he managed to find enough space around all the neatly wrapped packages to put his lanky body in a comfortable enough position to get some real sleep. The first night they insisted that he sleep back under the stairs as the second bedroom was under lock and key – the sole repository of Dudley's Christmas gifts. After seeing that the boy simply could not fit under the cupboard, let alone sleep in there, Aunt Petunia finally relented. Sending Dudley on an errand, she had Harry carry a few packages down the stairs and into the cupboard, giving the Harry a little bit of space on the bed.

"Get up!" He heard it again. Slowly he got up and carefully walked around the packages. Opening the door, he saw Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

"It's..." Harry looked over to the alarm clock. "It's five am."

"Well had you been able to fit under the cupboard we wouldn't be bothering you – except to make breakfast," Aunt Petunia informed him. "We need to get the packages under the tree so our Dudleykins can think that Father Christmas..."

"He's sixteen," Uncle Vernon interrupted with a gruff. "He has long since stopped believing. Now let's get the bloody packages under the tree and get back to sleep."

After a dozen or so trips up and down the stairs, a careful and conscious effort made to not step on the exceptionally squeaky stair, they finally had the last of the gifts down by the tree. Harry stood by the arch joining the dining and sitting area that housed an enormous tree – not huge like at Hogwarts, but large enough that some of the furniture had to be moved to make room.

"I bet you're dying to know what we got you," Uncle Vernon said poisonously.

"Just time with my family is all I need, Uncle Vernon," Harry said sweetly, not taking the bait.

"Just fetch some cookies, will you?" Vernon said with some disgust, too tired to pick apart the statement with his usual relish.

Harry walked into the spotless kitchen remembering Tonks' remark over a year ago that the place seemed to be too clean. And, as he carefully put some cookies on a plate and poured some milk for his Aunt and Uncle, he couldn't help but notice that it was just a wee bit too clean. He was always used to clean homes, between his Aunt and the dormitory. Even the Weasley's house was clean – at least in its own way – and Sirius' house in Hogsmeade was clean and the dorms last year were clean. But never as clean as this or when an army of house elves were in charge.

He put away the milk and closed the refrigerator with his hip, cringing as it closed with a thump. "Sorry," he said sheepishly as he brought in the tray.

"You have better not wake..." Aunt Petunia began but was interrupted by lumbering footsteps overhead.

Harry set down the tray and started to back away as the thundering footsteps rammed down the stairs. He turned to run from Uncle Vernon, whose face was a deep crimson and his fingers grasped at Harry's throat. Before Harry could run, Dursley grabbed him by the sweater. He closed his eyes, waiting for the slap but it never came.

"Father Christmas! Father Christmas!" Dudley pushed Harry as he entered the sitting room, causing Harry to fall over and land squarely in Vernon's lap. The oversized teen yelped and pranced around the room. "I knew it! I heard him on the roof. His footsteps and..." Dudley grabbed a package and not bothering to see to whom it was labeled, ripped it open. "And the reindeer too. All them – they're on the roof!"

"I took every effort to check and double-check. Multiple cross references and researching the most archaic of meanings..." Ruedella Lestrange wore a black robe and knelt before the Dark Lord.

"Where is he? He was summoned along with you..." Voldemort responded bluntly while lazily looking over the report.

"He is still most loyal, I do assure you," Ruedella said nervously. She quickly looked around and noticed that no one, aside from whom she suspected to be Pettigrew, was present. "May I ask, My Lord, where is..."

The Dark Lord abruptly pushed up off the chair and walked over to the witch. Grabbing her chin, he forced her head up. She looked into his red eyes, which glittered with an entrancing glow. "Where is he...?"

"I..." Ruedella began, focusing her thoughts. She had learned that blocking everything was not always feasible and would reveal that she could evade questioning. Select truths, Severus had counseled, strategically offered, kept up the illusion of loyalty. "We had a bit of a disagreement. I was careless and he's well... not quite himself."

"You know where he is?"

"Not exactly," Ruedella said. "He... err... in his state he must have become..." She jumped as a loud crash echoed against the window. "... disoriented..."

The Dark Lord turned toward the window then to the hunched wizard who lurked in the corner. "Wormtail, will you dispose of that thing! It has come by here twice tonight..."

"It is just a night creature and nothing that should bother you, My Lord," Ruedella said quickly. "Perhaps after we are through, I can take care of the situation and not bother..."

The Dark Lord waved his hand at Wormtail to dismiss him. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, a lover's tiff and my key Death Eater is now wandering the wilds..."

"Well, perhaps not exactly..." Ruedella said. Clearing her throat she motioned to the report. "Do you have questions about the...?"

"You're changing the subject. But I gather my synopsis is more or less the gist of things. However, I sense that he is not dead – at least as far as you know - or at least you did not directly kill him."

"No, my Lord," the witch said quickly as she looked at the window. "For the moment..."

"The bloody bat will be taken care of!" Voldemort bellowed. "Unless you feel that it can outwit Wormtail..."

"Are you a betting wizard?" Ruedella asked under her breath and was rewarded with a choking hand around her throat. "I'll take care of it... him..." she said between gasps of air.

Voldemort let go of her and summoned over the report. "You have until New Years to straighten out your... mishap..."

"Thank you, my Lord," Ruedella groveled. "I shall devote..." She stopped as Voldemort waived an impatient hand to silence her.

"You were wondering where the others were?" he asked.

"I am curious," she said, quickly scanning the room as her head was still lowered.

"Let's say that a few are out 'shopping' for a Yule gift while some others are out creating a diversion," Voldemort answered, following with a cold, high-pitched laugh. "Now your reading is quite interesting..." the Dark Lord said, tapping his long bony finger on his chin. Grabbing the leather case that Ruedella had used to bring in the report, he opened it and then waved his hand over it. Reaching in, he produced another scroll. Holding it up, the Dark Lord displayed a toothy smirk. "And the one from Dumbledore, I presume?"

"Dumbledore?" Ruedella gasped. "Why would he...?"

"Really, your husband's idea actually," Voldemort said. "As much as I would like to take credit. He convinced Dumbledore to translate the runes as well. 'Their' plan was to take Dumbledore's translation and substitute it for yours – with some very advanced forging spells which either Dumbledore or one of Snape's ill-bred, thieving relatives could provide. The idea, of course, was that Dumbledore would have a less than exact translation, throwing me off, while you worked hard to provide me with a completely accurate translation. The key, however, was in Severus' years and years of being Dumbledore's pet redemption project – it was time to fully leverage that trust. Dumbledore let you do the translation, fully confident that it would never reach my hands."

It was perhaps the terrified, ashen expression on his mother's face that stopped Dudley's celebration in mid-package. His fat hand clenched a wad of red paper embossed with tiny Christmas trees and he held it steady, his lips tight as he listened to the creaking stairs and the swooshing cloaks that approached from inside the house. Vernon pushed Harry off his lap and then stood himself, standing behind the boy, as if he were using Harry as a shield. In a brilliant flash of green light, the room filled with cloaked wizards. The huge Christmas tree rocked back and forth, spilling ornaments all over the gifts. A black-clad Death Eater set it ablaze in a heatless blue flame that managed to reduce the tree, save for a scorched foot-high metal pole, and many of the surrounding presents into ash.

"Leave them alone!" Harry yelled out and stepped forward. He scanned the masked faces and spotted a set of pale blue-gray eyes. "Come now, Malfoy," he said, "there is no point in dragging this along and risk capture... again." Harry added the last with a brazen smirk.

"Really Potter," Lucius Malfoy, replied as he took off his hood and mask, "I understand that you might enjoy this as much as I. Pity we cannot allow you to have a wand and join us." He looked over to Petunia and nodded, "I do wonder if your Aunt has the same high-pitched scream as you mother?"

"Enough!" a voice belonging to a wizard second from Lucius' right called out. "We were instructed specifically to retrieve the boy. Other, 'extracurricular'," the wizard said sarcastically, "were expressly forbidden."

"Rabastan," Lucius said with a sneer, "you were always too soft."

"You were always unable to follow direction and your arrogance assured one too many failures," Rabastan replied. He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a small compact silver mirror. He held it in his hand for a moment. "Shall I contact our Lord to have him remind you..." He trailed off as the mirror began to glow an eerie ghoulish green. With his free hand he ripped off his mask and lowered his hood, his uncombed, greasy brown hair falling into his eyes. Taking the mirror close, he opened it.

The other wizards turned to watch as Rabastan opened the mirror. Lowering his eyes for a moment, he address, "Yes My Lord..."

Harry took the opportunity to scan the room, searching for any promise of escape. If he could make it to the cupboard – which was still unlocked – he might be able to retrieve his wand. It was a long shot, but one he had to try. He looked between Malfoy and another Death Eater, judging the space sufficient for him to dash through and into the kitchen. Harry took a practiced breath and slowly moved his right foot forward so he could put all his energy into his thrust. As he calculated his strategy, he noticed a slight movement in the kitchen. He blinked and refocused his eyes and spotted a small head and large green eyes peering around the entryway.

"But My Lord!" the younger Lestrange wizard exclaimed incredulously, "You said bring the boy! Alive if possible, dead if necessary... I do not..." Harry turned towards Lestrange and darted his eyes between the Death Eater with the mirror and the house elf that hid behind the entryway. The creature took a step to the side, presenting itself in the doorway carrying Harry's wand. Harry quickly looked at the elf and then around the room. Everyone, including the Dursleys, was engrossed in Lestrange and the mirror and did not notice the additional visitor. Harry looked again at the elf. Not Dobby, he determined, but he nodded discreetly at it while it presented a bow in return. The creature winked at Harry and twirled his wand in between its long fingers.

"But My Lord... we have him here!" Lestrange bellowed, apparently confused. The other Death Eaters grumbled and then began to hiss as their marks burned with the summons. "My sister... she told you WHAT! Dumbledore was going to trick you, give you a false prophesy – one that would destroy you! But let us kill the boy for..." the wizard screamed and dropped the mirror as the mark burned in his arm.

"Now!" the elf squealed and snapped its fingers. A blinding bright light filled the room and sent everyone, except for Harry to the floor. Harry bounded forward and felt the wand enter his hands. He turned to see the Dursleys situated in a large heap and a few of the other Death Eaters apparated away, the sound of soft pops filling the room. Only Malfoy and Lestrange remained.

Lestrange leapt to his feet, tore his wand from his sleeve, and took a step towards Harry.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry called out. His spell hit the brown-haired Death Eater squarely in the chest. The wizard fell backwards and tripped over a present, landing backwards in the pile of rubbish that was once the Dursley Christmas tree; his wand rolling harmlessly near Aunt Petunia's feet. As the wizard fell, Harry could feel a boiling streak of light pass by his face, he fell back instinctively and then turned as he heard a high-pitched yelp as the spell caught the House Elf and threw it through the window, shattering the glass and bouncing off the snowy grass.

"A wise tactician takes out the strongest first," Malfoy said dangerously. "You are an apt wizard, Potter, but not yet fully trained. I have no idea why he has called us away, but that will not prevent any unfinished business you and I have." Lucius raised his wand and pointed it at Harry who was sprawled on the ground. "_Ava_..." Harry braced himself, but before the wizard could issue his curse, Harry heard a shout and a bright red light emit from behind Malfoy. The elder wizard screamed and fell to his knees, reaching behind his back to put out the flames as his wand rolled under a nearby chair.

Harry looked past the fallen wizard and to his Aunt, who held Lestrange's wand and the most surprised expression on her face.

She dropped the wand as if it were feces and kicked it away. "I... I...," she began and looked at her husband who was now being helped into a chair by her son. She shook and led herself to another chair and fell into it, looking at the blonde wizard in disbelief as she wiped her hand against the chair, as if she were cleaning it.

"Nollo is here," a squeaky voice croaked. The elf climbed back into the house through the broken window and with a snap of its fingers repaired the glass. "Master is now safe as Nollo promised to keep Master safe." The elf walked over and stood by Harry. "This will take Nollo a long time, but Nollo will clean..."

"Aagghh," Harry jumped and turned from the elf as Dudley screamed, "He's dead! HE'S DEAD!" Dudley looked at Harry and pointed at Lestrange's body. "You killed him... with your wand you..."

"But..." Harry began to shake as he looked over to the corner. During his fall, Lestrange impaled himself on the short remnant of the metal pole that was once the Christmas tree. "He fell... and landed..."

"You killed my blood," Malfoy said, clenching his teeth in anger and pain. "But, all will be equal tonight. That little Mudblood will have a Christmas she'll never forget..."

Harry turned to Malfoy and put his wand under the man's chin. "What do you mean?"

"Wonder why no one is here? No Aurors despite the mess we've made?" Malfoy chuckled ominously. "A little diversion. Create some panic in Muggleland and every Auror and able-bodied Ministry official will have to be on call to fix things right. More memory charms tonight than Lockhart placed in a lifetime, I would wager. Of course, that little Mudblood and her family won't need fancy charms. Just three finely carved granite tombstones and the knowledge that you, Harry Potter, were – at least indirectly – responsible for her death."

"HERMIONE!" Harry bellowed. "Trying to level the playing field for your whining, inbred son?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "I should..."

"Crucio me like you tried with Bellatrix? That pathetic little attempt," Malfoy mocked. "You have to really want to..."

Harry's blood boiled and the boy took a step back. He leveled his wand directly at Lucius' head. He took a deep breath, his hand shaking and he before the killing curse could completely leave his lips, he heard a soft pop and a hand over his mouth. Harry pulled away but the person was quicker, grabbing his wand.

"Don't do it boy," Mad Eye put Harry's wand away. "This scum deserves it, believe me..."

"Hermione..." Harry began.

"Is fine. A tad hurt, but she is fine." Mad Eye turned to Malfoy and with a snap of his fingers, bound the wizard. "Don't try to apparate unless you want torn apart..." Turning back to Harry he added. "That cat of hers managed to get into her room and warn a photo of your friend. His photo then went back home to a photo his Mum had and I guess wrote some sort of message. She and her family are fine - nothing that even Muggle medicine can't handle. When we got word of other 'underage' activities around here, we figured that it must have been a diversion." Mad Eye inspected the room. "Looks like you handled yourself quite nicely."

"With a bit of help," Harry said, looking at the elf and then panning to his Aunt who was still silently shaking in her chair.

"I never knew about my parents until after Lily left for Hogwarts," Petunia sat at the table, rubbing her hands over her face. She kept her eyes down, apparently too terrified to look at Vernon, who was staring at her in shock. "I could never figure out why they were so proud until I learned that they were from... there..." She gulped and took a few measured breaths to calm herself. "They had no magical talent and since jobs were not plentiful or well-paying for squibs they decided to go into this world. Given everything with Grindelwald and You-Know-Who, I suppose that they felt it safer. I would have never known if it weren't for the fact I overheard conversations. For all we knew, Lily and I grew up in a normal suburban home. However, I still think they did the right thing." She looked at Harry and said, "The freak world isn't safe, it's dangerous. When you came here, I swore that I would keep you safe... like I wanted for Dudley..."

"What does Dudley have to do with this?" Vernon roared. "Why didn't you go... get a letter... whatever..."

"In rare cases," Moody interjected, "someone with slight latent magical talents can, in extreme circumstances, perform magic. It's not unheard of for squibs to do some very, very basic magic. Quickspell makes a fortune selling short courses. The results are usually not encouraging though." Moody looked at Petunia. "I'll assume the stress and adrenaline... however I am curious on how you knew that particular curse?"

Petunia continued, "I owled Dumbledore and agreed to continue Harry's care if he promised not to send a... letter... to Dudley." Petunia looked at her son who was wide-eyed in surprise. "I have no idea if he has any...err...abilities and given that Harry was here it was easy enough to put everything on him."

The woman took a deep breath and a sip of water and looked at the table. After a few long moments she finally had the courage to look up and meet Vernon's gaze. "I did not want part of... them... all **_freaks_** and just so... **_abnormal_**. Of course, when I was younger, I was curious. The more I learned, the more I was convinced. I would be forced to join my parents when they dropped off or picked up Lily at King's Cross. I would make it a point to..." She jumped as another wizard, one with brown hair and amber eyes suddenly appeared in the room. She paused and watched as the man nodded and then took a seat next to Harry, deciding not to make an issue of it. "I would make it a point to hide among the pillars and listen. I heard about the lessons and tidbits that my parents did not talk about. I came to recognize one in particular -- a sickly, greasy dark haired boy who knew all sorts of dark things. He would sit against a pillar, mainly alone, and recite various spells out loud as he committed them to memory." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "I often wondered if he knew if I was there... odd boy... the biggest freak of them all."

"Well..." Vernon cleared his throat. "That does not explain – THAT!" He pointed his sausage-like finger to the living room where a gray house elf was busy cleaning. "What the bloody hell is that and why can't we just get rid of it?"

"It is a House Elf," Petunia started to explain. "It came with...err...him." She pointed at Harry. "A few days after Harry arrived, the elf showed up at the door while you were at work. Apparently he was not at the house when it was destroyed... Potter had sent him on an errand. I've tried to get rid of it..."

"You mean it has been living HERE all these years!" Vernon roared. His face turned from a sickly green to a more familiar crimson-purple.

"Well, did you ever wonder how the dinner dishes got done when we retired early or how I could cook your favorite pot roast in under an hour!" Petunia replied.

"Or how the house is unnaturally clean?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Petunia! GET IT OUT OF HERE!" Vernon screamed so hard that Harry swore that the room was shaking.

"She can't," Moody said lazily. "And watch your temper. I've put up with the 'freaks' comments long enough and it's early enough in the morning without my tea and I am a tad edgy."

"Guests wish tea?" Nollo quipped as it skipped out of the living room and fetched a kettle from the cupboard, happily filling it.

"I thought those things were supposed to be neither seen or heard?" Vernon said watching the odd little creature bouncing around the kitchen. He turned to Moody, "What's this about she can't get rid of it...?"

"The elf is Harry's," Moody explained. "Bound to the Potters I suppose and is obliged to serve and protect Harry. I wondered why Albus was so confident. The protection from his mother's sacrifice was one area, but I suppose he knew about this and the added protection. Elves have powerful magic – a secret weapon, I suppose. It never came out until it perceived a real threat."

"So when Harry leaves – as in the next few minutes," Vernon said, his voice shaking and deliberately pronouncing each word, "it will go with him?"

"It can't go to Hogwarts," Moody said. "Students are not allowed personal elves. We could have Harry store it elsewhere, but if the Death Eaters return and look for him, you might want it around." Moody leaned over the table. "Without a wand your little wifey couldn't produce a spell to save your skin and even with one, what you saw earlier was a... if you excuse the expression..." He sneered at Petunia. "A **_freak_** accident..." He sat up in the chair and smoothed out his shirt, "Even a Muggle as dense as you might see the benefit of some free services and a compact body guard. Just tell it to go back into its shell and you won't know its here, just like the past fifteen years."

[END OF CHAPTER]

Hey You!!! Yeah you! Don't forget your comments. Also, if you are a registered user, you can sign up for author alerts and get them whenever I update.


	18. The Knights of Walpurgis

**Author's Notes:** A new chapter is up and please enjoy. It's a bit longer than the rest and a bit more chock full of angst whereas the next chapter will revel in dark humor before ending in angst. Oh, for those new to this story and have been reading up recently – Fanfiction in its 'updates' took out my older chapter's section breaks. So, I do apologize if the transitions were a bit abrupt. Hopefully this new method will be effective. 

Tethered Serpent: An answer to your inquiry is in this chapter. Thanks for your input! Oh, on the side. JKR hardly scorched the vampire 'connection'. Unlike the rumors about Percy, which she was pretty clear, she typed the 'Err' and 'I don't think so' – personally I think she was avoiding the question.

Damia Rose: I sometimes forget too… J If it weren't for my outline and notes I'd probably would have given up. However, if you ever wanted a story with twists and requiring a scorecard, you should try "Any Means Necessary" by Winky's Conscience (I don't know the website, as the author pulled the story from here some time ago). This is a Dick and Jane story by comparison. (There's more than a few ideas/nods from that story I have in here…)

ExcessivelyPerky: I never pictured Snape as a suave lover, but more of a color-by-numbers type of guy. You know, part A goes into slot B type of thing.

SilverThread & Ezmerelda: Oh, you'll never guess where he'll end up. Wait until the next chapter! Poor Snape, Karma is a… well you know… J

To the rest, I'm glad you are enjoying and I appreciate the comments. Thanks again!

**Chapter 18: The Knights of Walpurgis…**

"Come on dear," Molly Weasley soothing voice doted over the boy as she heaped a stack of pancakes on Harry's plate. "You were defending yourself. That Death Eater could have left just like the others but he chose to stay."

"He would have killed you," Ron agreed, spitting some pancake across the table, as his mouth was full. He looked down at his plate as his mother scowled at him. Swallowing his food, he added, "If he didn't kill you right there and then, he would have taken you to... HIM..."

"But Voldemort called them back," Harry said, ignoring everyone's grimace as he said the dreaded name out loud. He turned to Arthur who was listening with great interest. "I really need to talk to Dumbledore. Voldemort did something that Dumbledore and I need to discuss."

"Oh, double-super-secret Order of the Phoenix stuff," Ron lamented.

"No," Harry replied, trying hard not to get mad. "Something I have to talk to Dumbledore directly..."

"Regardless," Molly said, "I'd wager that you have not had a decent meal since you left Hogwarts."

Harry nodded and began to add some butter and syrup to his pancakes. As he reached across the table, he felt a paper that rested in his shirt pocket. Retrieving it, he opened it up and noticed it was the clarification Professor Lestrange gave him. "The wizard I killed... it was Rabastan Lestrange... right?"

"Yes, I believe so," Arthur said. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry said while he folded up the paper and put it back all the while looking quite guilty.

"Well, get eating because we want to open our gifts," Fred and George said in unison.

"Oh speaking of which," Fred continued. "Mum, Dad… we wanted to get you a..." He stopped abruptly as Errol slammed into the window, crashing through it. The family, in a practiced move, picked up their plates as the owl skidded down the table.

"Get you an owl..." George finished. "Granted we do love Errol," he continued as he picked up the unconscious bird and retrieved the mail, keeping the Daily Prophet for himself. "But we think he needs a bit of a retirement."

"An owl!" Molly said, "That's just too much..."

"Well, let me contribute a bit," Ginny said. When everyone turned to look at her, she said quickly, "I saved up some money and...err... made a few Galleons tutoring here and there."

"Oh yes," Fred and George said in unison, "She 'tutored' every Saturday during Quidditch season."

Harry saw Ginny mouth a discreet, 'shut up' to her twin brothers but thought nothing of it. Sighing, he began to dig into his food, his rumbling stomach getting the better of him. It was delicious and he began to eat faster, adding more slices of bacon to the plate.

"Well Christmas has come to all Hogwart's students!" George said with relish. He held up the paper for all to see. The headline read 'Death Eaters Attack Muggles' apparently referring to the attack on Hermione's neighborhood. A subtitle read, 'Harry Potter slays Rabastan Lestrange' and then a large side column had bold letters 'Hogwarts Professor Missing, Presumed Dead.'

"What!" Arthur called over the paper with a clap of his hands. "Let's see..." Arthur said as he scanned the article. Summarizing, he began, "Narcissa Black, cousin of Severus Snape, stated that she reported his disappearance the day before yesterday. A number of family portraits had reported to her hearing screams a few days ago. When she tried to contact him, she was unsuccessful. Inspector Blogs, Chief Auror, states that Ruedella Lestrange is the main suspect as he believes that she was the only one, save for the elves, who was in the home. Because the home is unplottable, the witch is still at large."

"Oh, dear!" Molly Weasley cried. "A huge blow to the Order! I figured she was after his money... getting him into some sort of trap! Snape is quite clever, but she has some of the most notorious family blood running through her veins!"

"Well, hold on," Arthur said, holding up his hand while he scanned the article some more. "It says here that the Inspector cannot determine a real motive as she is not entitled to anything as their contract was not bound..."

"They were contracted?" Molly exclaimed. "He never mentioned it..." The rest of the family looked at Arthur, all quite surprised.

"What is 'contracted'?" Harry asked.

"It's an old pureblood family thing," Molly said quickly. "Meaning that she was given to him to bind a family alliance." She frowned deeply, "Quite medieval."

"Married," George and Fred said quite solemnly, their faces crinkling with disgust.

George continued, "Surprised that you didn't know…"

"Snape is not one to wear his heart on his sleeve and neither is Lestrange," Harry said as he filled his fork with food trying to steer away from a sensitive Order topic. Looking back at Arthur he asked quizzically, "What does it mean that the contract was not bound?"

Fred and George laughed. "It means," Fred said. "That they didn't do the nasty..."

George finished, "You know... consummate... shag..."

Harry let his fork fall to his plate. "Thanks... **_that_**image has completely destroyed my appetite."

"Ahem…" Arthur interrupted. "Contracts are filed with the Ministry, just like regular marriage certificates. The couple, as well as certain family members, retain copies. When the couple…err…" he motioned vaguely with his hand, turning slightly red in the face.

"Really now," George quipped, "the way you are going one would never think you fathered seven children!"

"So, in other words, the contracts magically register the 'acceptance' so to speak of the contract by both parties," Harry said quickly, understanding the implication and trying to spare Mr. Weasley from any further painful elaboration. He rubbed his nose and then leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back as he thought. Harry sorted through the various memories he had shared with the witch and then he slapped his hand on the table. "I don't believe for an instant that she did anything!"

[SECTION]

"Oh Ginny, this is lovely!" Molly held up a fine gold necklace. "You must have tutored for a hundred hours."

"Oh, you wanna **_bet_**?" Fred said quickly, ducking as Ginny threw his a dirty look.

"Well, anyhow... thank you," Molly said as she put the necklace on. "Harry, dear, it is your turn." She levitated a large soft package to the boy. "I suppose you know what it is."

"It is wonderful!" Harry said, smiling broadly as he tore into the package. "I outgrew the other one." He smiled as he pulled out the purple wool sweater and put it on. He watched as the family opened the rest of their few packages. After they cleaned up, Fred, George and Ginny left while the rest stayed in the living room.

After a half hour, Ron and Harry proceeded upstairs.

"How do you know she didn't do it?" Ron said. "It's not like Snape flew off to some exotic location for holiday."

Harry stammered for a few moments and then stopped in the hall. "Listen, you know on Sunday and Wednesday when I go off?"

"Yeah?" Ron said, nodding his head.

"Dumbledore asked that I continue my Occlumency lessons..."

"With Snape?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Shh..." Harry said. "Your parents know, as do Fred and George, but I'm trying to keep this quiet. Not with Snape but Lestrange. Dumbledore thought she needed the practice too..."

"She's a spy like Snape?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I think," Harry said. "Or at least she's in a position that Dumbledore thinks this is necessary. I get the impression that she doesn't know what side Snape is on either..."

"What did you see?" Ron said. "I mean you do have to see her memories when she tries to block you back, right?" The boy leaned towards his friend, hanging on every word.

Harry paused and leaned against the wall. "It's private... but I really don't think she could kill him. At least on purpose. I guess it's another reason that I need to contact Dumbledore."

"Well, the report was started by Narcissa Malfoy, so I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who offed him," Ron said quite seriously. "I mean if Lestrange wasn't going to gain, what was her motivation? I'd wager that a real Slytherin would put a bag over his head and get it over with and then AK the git for the mansion and the Galleons."

[SECTION]

Chief Inspector Blogs watched as the witch tossed the empty teacup to the side and then covered her ashen face with her hands. Taking up the cup, he peered at the leaves.

"A Grim," Ruedella said.

"Looks like a big bat to me," the Inspector said offhandedly. "I think you're a bit stressed."

"My brother is in the morgue, my cousin is in custody, and I am the prime suspect in Severus' disappearance!" Ruedella shot back. "A bit stressed… do you think?!"

"Actually," the Auror said matter-of-factly, "we think Severus Snape has been murdered."

"Is that what Narcissa believes?" Ruedella asked sulkily.

"If it were her word alone, we would still investigate but be suspicious," the wizard said truthfully. "However, Albus Dumbledore interrogated his portrait of Phineus Nigelus on our behalf and the former Headmaster confirmed that he did, indeed, hear some rather disturbing sounds. And, no one, including Dumbledore has heard from him since the last day of classes." He looked at her sternly and folded his arms. "Except for you."

A sharp knock at the door turned their attention. With a snap, the inspector unlocked and opened the door revealing another Auror and Dumbledore.

"He insisted on being here," the young Auror said nodding towards Dumbledore. "Claims to be her defense solicitor."

Blogs looked up to the elderly wizard. "You're one of the main witnesses!"

"Well," Albus said as he sat down next to the witch. "As much respect as I would like to extend to your office, suffice it to say that I have been rather disappointed at the lack of council and fair trials supplied during more trying times." Pulling out of a pocket in his robes he procured a stack of papers. "Phineus was kind enough to interview most of the portraits in Grimmauld Place. Of course, you can use my office to access him for cross-examination and he said that he would try his best to pull in as many portraits as possible, although the cooperation from certain ones might not be guaranteed. To be honest, I was surprised that he is actually cooperating to this extent."

"Perhaps Professor Lestrange could be kind enough to take her to Grimmauld Place for our own investigation?" Blogs asked.

"It is under a Fidelus Charm," Ruedella said. "I could bring you to the location, but the house would only appear for me. We would have more luck bringing Muggles to the Ministry or Hogwarts for that matter."

"Which is very concrete evidence that Severus Snape is still alive," Dumbledore said. "I stopped by the location this morning – or at least where I last knew the approximate location. The house never appeared, even using some of the more advanced revealing and location charms I know. This, of course, implies that its secret-keeper is quite alive."

"So you care to tell your version? Why you never responded to the letters or summons?" Blogs turned to Ruedella.

"I have been out looking for Severus," Ruedella explained. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a neat stack of letters, most showing the Malfoy family crest. "Narcissa has been badgering me about a number of things. When I cancelled Severus' Christmas Eve get-together the day after Severus went missing, the letters multiplied."

"Was one of the things she was badgering you about had to do with your weekly visits with her son in the Hogs Head Inn?" Blogs asked. He smiled triumphantly as the information seemed to surprise Dumbledore.

"A rather obscure family tradition that my cousin Lucius insisted upon," Ruedella said. "There is a small, latent, talent of Rune divination in our family. However, in the case of this boy, I fear that I have seen Romani Muggles with more inherent, natural talent. At least his skill at reading Runes has increased appreciably, but I daresay that he couldn't forecast what he wanted for dinner that evening, let alone anything of interest." She looked at Dumbledore, "Given that his skills are of no threat or worth to anyone, I felt it was not necessary to concern you." She looked at the old wizard in the eyes, dropping her defenses for the moment. She turned away when the Dumbledore nodded; indicating that he was satisfied with her explanation, but not keen that she was so elusive regarding it.

She continued, addressing Blogs, "I was so preoccupied with finding Severus that I took the other missives but never read them – I assumed they were from Narcissa or someone else who could wait…" The witch dropped her arms onto the table and buried her head in them and began to sob.

Blogs nodded and then took the papers Dumbledore had in front of him. Giving Ruedella several minutes to pull herself together, he read the reports, taking a few notes. He cleared his throat and pulled out another stack of papers from his drawer, quickly checking through them.

"So," Blogs began with a low drawl, "I understand that the portraits last reported the two of you in the Master Bedroom. All normal… except for him sleeping mostly in the chair…" He raised an eyebrow and continued. "Then it was apparent that you two were getting intimate and the portraits vacated their frames to give you privacy. A portrait of a young Sirius Black stole into the corner of Brewtus Black's for a bit… however his deposition consisted mainly of a few crude comments about Professor Snape and that he was glad Phineus dragged him out before he disrobed. Then, when the room was empty, they heard the Professor's screams echo from the room." He put the papers in the pile and smirked. "I assume it wasn't foreplay…?"

Dumbledore, listening patiently, grabbed Ruedella's teacup and looked into it. "Well, at least it isn't a dark hooded figure, is it?" he said with a light air trying to do something to change the mood and lighten Ruedella's complete embarrassment.

"She claims it is a Grim," Blogs said, twirling his finger by his temple.

"I am not insane!" Ruedella shot back.

"Let's see… confusing a House Elf for the deceased Regulus Black, believing that you're a fourth year Hogwarts student arriving home for Yule break, confusing young Harry Potter for his father and then causing a near riot by naming a werewolf in public and accusing him of murder." Blogs leaned over the table, "And let's not go into earlier this year with that Boggart…"

"You have no idea!" Ruedella yelled, standing up and leaning over the table, her breath disturbing the Auror's impeccable hair.

"Do you really think I wish to be here today? Of all days?" Blogs yelled back. "I'd just as soon throw you in a cell and wait until after the holidays!"

"I need to find Severus!" she shouted back.

"WELL THEN TELL US WHAT HAPPENED!" Blogs shouted. Frowning, he leaned back in his chair, "And, if Snape was indeed 'just lost' and 'disoriented' as you claim, why didn't the Knight Bus pick him up? They're constantly dumping off stranded and disoriented wizards and witches at St. Mungo's…"

"I don't believe," Dumbledore interrupted, "that this is very productive." He smiled at Blogs. "Kindly give us some time and then we will be happy to assist in the best way we can."

[SECTION]

The moment the door clicked behind the Inspector, Ruedella turned to Dumbledore.

"I know," he said calmly, holding up his hand. "You tried to tell me, but I purposely stayed out of your way. It was a plan Severus and I concocted after that little incident on Halloween. I don't blame you of course…"

"But he has the prophecy!" Ruedella exclaimed. "I don't mean this to be heartless, but sacrificing the boy would be a trade for ridding the world of that evil… I can see why you withheld it, but it certainly isn't your method…"

"Considering that boy killed your brother…"

"I understand Rabastan invaded him home, threatened Potter and his family and the death was an accident," Ruedella said. "I am upset, but glad that Rabastan is now free…" She sobbed and gratefully took Dumbledore's offered handkerchief. "I hold no grudge against Potter but it does little to lessen the pain…"

"Then kindly teach that trait to your husband as it would eliminate probably 30 percent of my nightly pacing," Dumbledore said as he put a reassuring arm around her shoulder. "Voldemort…" He shook his head as Lestrange cringed. "Voldemort does have the prophesy but that isn't my concern now…" He folded his hands on his lap. "Now Ruedella, I need to know what happened… Without the truth I cannot help you and considering the current mentality, the Aurors are chomping at the bit to throw you in a cell with your cousin and lock the door."

"Well, at least I would have company," Ruedella said.

"Until they throw him through the Veil," Dumbledore said sadly. "Perhaps he deserves it… but even wiser men that I would shirk from determining who should live or who should die."

"Lucius never had a problem with that dilemma," Ruedella said. "He might enjoy the irony…"

"So, tell me what happened," Dumbledore asked softly, changing the subject.

"Oh, he can be so infuriating," Ruedella lamented. "Accuses everyone else of being a know-it-all, but he should take a look in the mirror himself." She shook her head and added, "You know what I mean…" She got up and paced the room. "I wanted to show him a taste of what it was like to have no choices – put him in a cage as it were…"

Dumbledore nodded and regarded her silently for a few moments. "Severus knows very well what it is like to be in a cage. I don't believe you were the one to teach him any lessons regarding choices, freedom and reciprocity." The wizard's voice was authoritative, but not unkind. "He is a difficult man to work with and you are one of the few of his contemporaries to which he is civil. He is not one to show affection, but the fact he took a risk to save you and went out of his way to formulate a most intricate and delicate plan shows me that there is something – buried deep and concealed lest it be exposed as a weakness – that could one day redeem him and perhaps save him in a time of great need."

"Severus saved me to further some other agenda," Ruedella said. "I assure you. Perhaps part to further his alliance with you through hoodwinking my relatives and the Dark Lord, perhaps something else... If there was any affection in his heart it died along with a certain red-haired, green eyed Muggle-born witch."

"She had a talent of seeing the good in everyone," Dumbledore interjected. "But what she offered him was a glimpse of self-worth. Not much different than what I offered him and in many ways what you offered him when you were children – although I am afraid that he chose to ignore your overtures. Severus was always a realistic boy and never pretended that her kindness should be construed as other affection. And, perhaps the memory of her kindness makes his obligation to protect Harry more palatable. A bit more balanced, I suppose, than a few other of James' contemporaries…" He said the last part sadly. "However," he croaked, clearing his throat, "could you confide in me what happened? Solicitor privilege, I suppose…" He leaned in and smiled, a twinkle entering his blue eyes, "Keeping in mind, that although his secretive nature does make him a bit of an enigma, that I have some awareness of his… shall we say… extracurricular activities…"

[SECTION]

"A little family reunion until they can figure out what to do with you…" the guard led the witch by the arm into a dank dungeon. Dragging her to a cell with a heavy metal door, he opened the small port on the door and called in. "Malfoy! Stand back you scum! Got a little visitor for you…" The guard then laughed and opened the door with his wand, immediately throwing Ruedella in and then slamming the door behind her.

Ruedella stumbled forward and nearly fell but was caught. She felt strong arm grab her and lead her to a bunk where she sat down. "Your eyes will adjust soon enough," Lucius said. "Are you here because you were found out…?"

"No," she said. Her gray eyes were beginning to adjust to the light. She saw Lucius' tall, lean figure and then, as the darkness faded, noticed he was clad in basic trousers and a shirt – almost looking like a common laborer. "Stupid fool…" she hissed, "you have no idea what you nearly did!"

"What did I 'nearly do'?" Lucius asked, grabbing her by the throat. "Sans, the fool comment."

"The boy," she croaked. Digging her nails into Lucius' hand until he let go, she caught her breath. "Potter and the Dark Lord are connected. He summoned you and you failed to follow!"

"How do you… you were there!?" Lucius inquired. He took a seat next to her and whispered. "Keep your voice low as the steel doors are thick, but the wall are quite thin."

"I finished recreating the prophecy," she said. "Had you killed Potter, you would have killed the Dark Lord!"

"Really?" Lucius said, a bright smile crossed his face. "Hmm…" he rubbed his chin and leaned back against the dank, cold stone wall. "So, why are you here."

"Severus disappeared and I am under suspicion…"

"Did you do it?"

"I did not kill him, but I am responsible for his… err… rather flighty frame of mind. He is lost and I am trying to find him… or at least was trying to find him if it weren't from your wife's interruptions." Ruedella replied. "Dumbledore is negotiating my release as we speak so that I can FIX what I've started." She nodded by the door, "What not a single Yule gift or fruit basket from the Dark Lord? A planned jail breakout to rescue his prized servant?" She shook her head, "You relied far too much on bribery. When the money and connections are gone…"

Lucius slammed her against the wall. "I do not need a lecture from you, little one. I bore his mark before that silly Sorting Hat knew where to put your scrawny little head." He released her. "So killing Potter would kill the Dark Lord?"

"It appears so," Ruedella said.

"That fits with the other clarification," Lucius remarked, closing his eyes slightly as he processed the information. "The charm that Potter's mother placed, must have, in turn, saved the Dark Lord as well. Meaning that they boy escaped death – or should have died – would then implied that so should have the Dark Lord…" Lucius stood and began to pace the room. After a few minutes, he resumed his seat next to her. "I have come to the conclusion that Severus was quite aware of your talents. Clever wizard, always one to keep his assets hidden… including his loyalties." He edged closer to his cousin. "You never struck me as one to be delusional. Occasionally naïve, but not stupid… but one who can see opportunities. Yes, of course, that is why Severus chose you. He can see…" Lucius pointed to her forehead. "A gift that is only shared by a handful of the most powerful wizards and those few touched by Dark influences."

"You're talking in circles," Ruedella said. "And high praise for a wizard that you call a 'half breed' behind his back."

"I don't disapprove of him," Lucius said. "He is a pureblood that came across an unfortunate accident. Not a result of a lack of poor breeding – well not entirely -- or some freak of nature like the Mudbloods. However, although I am not particularly keen on all aspects of his lineage, I suppose that given his help and support in our common goals, I should be more forgiving as he is a very powerful and important ally." He looked at her in distain, "Given your age and lack of comeliness, you should be pleased that at least your supposed intellectual prowess attracted a wizard of upcoming status. If he continues to assist me then, I suppose, in time, I could overlook a few things…"

Ruedella listened calmly; Severus had taught her how to not to take the emotional bait -- although it was a lesson she applied unevenly. "Common goals?" she asked, focusing on the part of the monologue that didn't completely offend her.

"Do you know why I took the mark?" Lucius asked.

"I had heard a story that our families owed an allegiance to the Dark Lord. A wizard bond or something of that nature. Father never felt it extended to me, as he assumed I would marry and not carry the Lestrange name for long I suppose…"

"Oh, so you think your family is nothing more than a bunch of obedient lapdogs?" Lucius snapped.

"Well, more like crups going after a Muggle groin than lapdogs," Ruedella said. She smiled slightly as Lucius allowed a rare chuckle. "Let me guess… power…"

"Precisely the same reason Severus joined his fold. A bright boy talented beyond his years in Dark Arts but small and scrawny, unattractive, ill-tempered and disliked by all except for those who could see his hidden talents. The Dark Lord taught us more than you could imagine, Ruedella. Ability to do things we never dreamed possible. But…" he leaned closer, "I have my own plans. You see I no longer wish to be the servant."

"A revolution?" Ruedella asked.

"Severus never…" Lucius asked, his head tilted to register his curiosity.

"Oh, he revealed some plans, but never the big picture," Ruedella said.

"I knew that my best chance is to find the Dark Lord's equal and cultivate them, mentor them, if you will, to see things my way," Lucius began.

"A puppet?"

"Of a certain nature," Lucius said. "One that would be powerful enough to vanquish most foes and one who would look to me as his main mentor. When I believed the Dark Lord to be dead, I started at the most natural place. My son, however, in his bungling, turned off Potter and made him an enemy. My second try was with Riddle's Diary. I came up with a plan, put a few key allies in place – as well as discussing my plan with Riddle's embedded personality – and put the plan in action. Severus, suspicious that Potter had some sort of odd connection with the Dark Lord, laid a plan to make Potter look like the Heir of Slytherin. Had the school closed, we could finish the process undeterred…"

"With an estranged Potter, young, vulnerable and seeking his roots, perhaps more open to take the spot should you find a reconstituted Riddle too much to handle?" Ruedella concluded.

"So," Lucius said calmly, a smile crossing his face that made Ruedella quite uneasy, "Tell me exactly what you know."

[SECTION]

"C'mon in boy!" Mad Eye Moody's booming voice called out responding to Harry's somewhat timid knock. The man slapped a mangled hand on a chair and beckoned the boy to join him. "Got ya a bit of a present," the man thrust a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper into the boy's hands as he sat down. "Something to help you with N.E.W.T.s."

Harry tore open the gift. In it was a soft-bound leather book. He leafed through it and noticed that all the pages were blank. "A notebook, Sir?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"No, no…" Moody said. "Sorry, here…" He took out his wand and tapped the spine and said, "_Monstrare Transfiguration_." The book shimmered for a second and then Moody opened it. "Here, an advanced study guide on Transfiguration. Notes, illustrations, what have you. Could almost skip class – something I am not advocating mind you – and still pass your N.E.W.T.s with flying colors. Just had it re-charmed last year for new information." He handed Harry the book, which the boy took eagerly. "The best part is that it's charmed for just about anything. Potions, Herbology, Charms…"

Harry stood up and paced the room, book in hand. "This is brilliant… but it must have cost a fortune…" He looked at Moody. "It's wonderful, but really… I cannot…"

"Boy, it's yours," Moody said, forcing a rare smile on what remained of his lips. "You're the best chance we have – we all have – in defeating this monster and I want to make sure you're up to the task."

Harry eagerly flipped through the book and, under Moody's initial guidance, changed it to different topics, finally settling on Potions. "Might need this," Harry said with a sigh as he pointed to the pages, "Given Dumbledore's luck, except for this year of course, in hiring for D.A.D.A. I should expect some bumps regarding the new Potions instructor."

"Well," Moody said as he took a seat next to Harry, "I don't know much other than Snape is missing. Lestrange must have done something…"

"I don't think she did," Harry said. "I mean… there might have been an accident…"

"Indeed, just an accident and a bit of misunderstanding…" Dumbledore's voice assured as the old wizard walked through the door.

"Care to explain?" Moody asked.

"She is free, under my supervision. I have tasked her with fixing her little problem and I assume that she is heading back home to rest before setting out again," Dumbledore explained.

Moody's jaw fell and he slapped his forehead with such force that his magical eye fell out and rolled across the table, eventually falling to the floor. Harry scooped it up and gingerly handed it to him. "You just let her go?" his voice dripped of incredulousness.

"Well, she is under my custody," Dumbledore said as he took a seat.

"Oh, and that cockamamie scheme regarding her and the prophesy…" Moody inquired.

"Voldemort has the prophecy in hand," Dumbledore said. "What he chooses to believe is another issue though…"

"Why don't we just put a bow on Harry's head, release Lucius Malfoy and hand Harry over to him to deliver to Voldemort himself?" Moody asked. "A bit less effort than this cloak-and-dagger…"

"Hmm…" Dumbledore looked at Harry and then back at Moody. "Do you actually think that would work?" Seeing Moody's jaw drop again, he chuckled, "Oh you do have a wonderful sense of humor." He watched as Moody slammed his chair back and stomped out of the room.

"He's pretty cheesed off," Harry said. "And I'm not particularly keen myself…"

"Voldemort called his Death Eaters off you, didn't he?" Dumbledore asked. He saw Harry's confused expression. "Well of course he did, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here. Unless Nollo did his job."

"May we start at the beginning?" Harry asked.

"Good place to start, provided you know where the beginning begins…" Dumbledore agreed.

"Well… okay," Harry scratched his head. "Why didn't you tell me about the house elf…"

"Not exactly the beginning," Dumbledore noted as he shrugged. "I will answer that question and then I'll start at the beginning." Harry nodded in agreement. "First, I was not entirely aware that Nollo was even alive. Your father had Nollo bring me his invisibility cloak right before his murder. I assumed that the elf returned and was eventually killed as well. I would have thought that your Aunt would have contacted me."

"My Aunt is a woman of her own convenience," Harry muttered. "But I don't understand how Nollo could have been in the house all these years. I mean, like when Dobby showed up…"

"Dobby, perhaps, was not perceived as a real threat," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "House Elves are typically not offensive. Dumping a cake on a house guest isn't exactly being aggressive, although I am sure Nollo was watching Dobby's every move. Had he made an aggressive move towards you or harmed someone in the house, I think the outcome of Dobby's visit would have been very different." He cleared his throat and said, "Now let's start at the beginning. One thousand years ago…"

"I know about the four founders," Harry interrupted impatiently.

"This reminds me of a storyteller who was constantly interrupted by his audience. Some thought that they were so clever and would spit out what they thought the plot or ending would be or how they thought a character would behave in a different way than the storyteller portrayed. The short of it was that the storyteller was both amused and frustrated – amused at the arrogance of some of his audience in not simply enjoying the story and learning from it and frustrated as some of his audience would leave so convinced that their assumptions were correct in that they rudely informed the storyteller that they were not going to waste any more time as they had completely divined the story and its intentions simply by applying their own highly-regarded and self-proclaimed intellect…"

"So in other word, shut up and wait until you finish the story because although I can assume…" Harry said.

"Those who assume inevitably end up just stopping at the first three letters," Dumbledore said, nodding. Seeing the boy blush, he kindly patted him on the shoulder and conjured a plate of tea and some snacks. "One thousand years ago, our community was besieged by attacks from Muggles. Any child or person showing the least bit of magical ability were tortured and murdered. The rampage was so total that Muggles even killed other Muggles simply out of ignorance spurred by the frenzy. The founders established Hogwarts as an institution to teach magic and as a base to establish a central wizarding community. Even then, Muggle-borns and those of mixed heritage were looked upon as spies and traitors – that their wizarding talents would only be corrupted and used by Muggles or that they would turn against their fellow wizards and turn them in for prosecution." Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, that fear was not completely unfounded as some did, under pressure from their parents – who turned them over to local religious authorities – did reveal the names of other wizards and witches.

"To help protect ourselves, it was decided that the best course of action was to step away from Muggle society and isolate ourselves. Eventually, we began manipulating their society slowly introducing the idea that magic was 'bunk' and did not exist. This allowed us to continue educating our young and, through other carefully considered measures, bring in Muggle-borns and those of mixed heritage more fully into the fold. However, as some were working on these more subversive, yet diplomatic measures, others, namely the more established wizarding families with a particular allegiance to Salazar Slytherin, took matters in their own hands. Slytherin, when he fled Hogwards, went to central Europe – some believe he had a hand in the founding of Durmstrang, but that is legend with little fact backing it. Considering themselves to be 'natures aristocracy,' they, under the leadership of Slytherin himself, formed the Knights of the Walpurgis, and organization aimed at keeping Muggles away from wizards and rescuing innocent wizards who fell into Muggle hands. "

"And Muggle-borns in their place," Harry added.

"Their treatment of Muggle-borns was one of necessity – or what they thought at the time – versus the raw prejudice and hatred that evolved into what you see now. At one time they felt Muggle-born or Half wizard could marry into wizarding society and receive some training once they've shown their loyalty. Although looked down as second-class citizens, in no way did the Knights, at least at the beginning, have the intention of killing them." Dumbledore took a slow sip of tea and set down his cup. "After we managed to separate wizarding society completely from Muggles – completed approximately the mid-fourteenth century, the power and influence of Knights and their families faded, their traditions upheld by only a few clans – Malfoy, Black and Snape were a few key families in Britian. Karkaroff, Dolohov and a few other names that you might recognize," he said the last carefully, "were influential families in Central and Eastern Europe."

"Snape?" Harry said, not exactly sure why he found that surprising.

"Once a very wealthy and powerful family until a few hundred years ago. When I was a boy my great-grandfather told me stories of the gala events they used to have. The best Goblin silverware and elegant gold-thread tapestries that hung their walls – loomed, I heard, from faeries. But, I am getting off the track…" The old wizard rubbed his beard. "Oh, yes… Over time the Knights became all but inactive until about 200 years ago. Given the increase in population, which increased the number of Muggle-Wizard incidents, it was believed that all the Anti-Muggle efforts of the Ministry would, in time, not be enough. The Knights recruited heavily in many now considered to be old-blood families – Bones, Prewett, Weasley and even Potter… even I joined when I was young. I was under the impression that I was doing something to help and protect. Their recruiting efforts, mind you, completely hid their more… shall we say… unsavory intentions.

"However, as the Knights gained power and influence, the underlying stewed hatred began to show. Missions turned from rescuing wizards from Muggles became searches to interrogate and intimidate Muggle-borns. Their elders became very selective in who they would let in and expelled those who did not meet their seven generation criteria. By the time the twentieth century came around, the Knights consisted of a core group of ancient families and their pure-blood supporters who had come to believe that any influence of Muggles – through marriage or other areas – would eventually spell the decline of wizarding society.

"During their resurrection, the Knights began to steep themselves in the Dark Arts. Some whisper that there is a Dark Arts Guild and if there is, I would not be surprised that the Knights were behind its creation. Even during my few years with them, I learned some terrible things – naïve in my youth thinking that I needed to be aggressive to uphold my status as a so-called Knight. One Knight rose up through the ranks and eventually usurped Thebes Slytherin – he became known simply as Grindelwald. He took the Knights in a more murderous direction, directing 'cleansing' efforts towards Muggle-borns and murdering mixed marriage families."

"Did you not eventually kill Grindelwald?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes I did," Dumbledore said. "Although some prefer to use the word 'vanquished.'" He sighed and rubbed his face, taking off his glasses and cleaning them before returning to his story. "Grindelwald recruited the best and brightest. A couple of years before his fall, he took on a young apprentice. Part in that he was enamored by the young wizard's power and second to appease the hard-core Knights who were starting to splinter away. Thuban Malfoy, grandfather to both Lucius Malfoy and Ruedella Lestrange, was concerned that following a single wizard versus a cause would eventually lead the group astray. So, to appease Malfoy, Grindelwald took on Tom Riddle as his apprentice…"

"I understand," Harry said, "from some research that Hermione was doing that the Malfoys and Lestranges owed a life debt to Riddle…"

"I suspected long ago that Riddle orchestrated the whole incident simply to save their lives," Dumbledore said. "I had taken to keeping a very close eye on the boy…"

"He had to return a time turner," Harry said. "Our theory is that he used it to save his classmates. Ron thinks he used it as an alibi to kill his family."

"Perhaps. The first I have no doubt and for the second, it is more plausible as I consider it," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"So Riddle put his well, for a lack of a better word, friends in danger simply to later save them so that these two powerful families would owe him a life debt?" Harry asked rhetorically as he summarized. "Let me guess, he received another 'Special Award' too?" Harry looked down on the floor. "Which reminds me, sir… Did my father receive an award for saving Snape or was it for something else?"

"He did," Dumbledore nodded.

"Why should someone get an award for doing what was right? I mean, Sirius tried to kill Snape and…" he trailed off, looking at Dumbledore who was looking quite tired. He paused. "I know there is something else. More to it. Remus thinks so too… and Lestrange… there was a reason she reacted the way she did to the boggart-werewolf and the boy—one of the boys was Snape." Harry continued, ignoring Dumbledore's widening eyes. "I saw a vision – a memory of Lestrange when she was weak. I know this is private and I won't comment about the other things I've seen… but my Dad was with her in the cave leading to the Shrieking Shack… the walls were covered with blood and Dad was holding his arm and telling her to run…" Harry started to shake, "But this couldn't have happened… maybe she is just insane… I hear the Aurors talking in the hall… they all think she is insane."

Dumbledore held up his hand to silence the boy. Closing his eyes, the old wizard drew in a deep breath and reached out with his hand and grabbed Harry's. Harry felt the old, gnarled hands, somewhat cold to the touch yet he could sense the immense power that surged under the skin. "Harry," Dumbledore said softly, not opening his eyes, "of the horrors I have witnessed all my years, there are few that bring me into such a condition. I plead with you to please set aside your curiosity…"

"But," Harry began to protest.

"Please," Dumbledore said simply. The wizard made a small motion with his hands. "Arthur Weasley should be by shortly. Enjoy your Yule dinner and I shall see you when the new term begins."

[END CHAPTER]

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	19. How Much is that Greasy Bat in the Windo...

**Author's Notes: **Thanks again for reading and I appreciate your comments. Another long chapter with a bit of details and odds and ends p

CrazNM: The changed scenes things is a result of an 'improvement' with – their new display system wiped out many of the section designations because they didn't recognize some characters or assumed certain groups of characters were 'filler' and simply didn't display them. I need to go back to all the old chapters and update using the [END SECTION] designation I use now. As far as your other comments, well… no comment. :lol:

Ezmerelda: Poor Harry indeed as this is a very complicated Riddle, isn't it? As for Ruedella, well what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger. Just wait and see who gets their hands on poor Snape – as they say, Karma's a beyotch…

**Chapter 19: How Much is that Greasy Bat in the Window?**

"Now Mum," Fred said as the Weasleys, with Harry in tow, approached Magical Menagerie, "You don't need to pick anything right now. George and I would like to take you to Eeylops too."

"Besides," George whispered, "Magical Menagerie doesn't exactly specialize in owls and we want to make sure you have a young, strong one that lasts for years. Many of the animals here are…err…"

"Second hand," Fred finished.

"Well, there's no point in wasting Galleons if second hand works just as good," Molly said cheerfully. "Arthur, aren't we just happy to get any owl?"

"Oh, of course," Arthur said as he held the door open, ushering the group inside.

"And," Ron added jovially, in a jest reference to the rat they purchased here for his brother Percy long ago, "they might have a special discount on disguised Death Eaters." He ducked as his Mother tried to smack him along side the head.

Harry had only visited the Menagerie once, many years ago. He was so enamored with Diagon Alley that he failed to take in details of some of the shops he had passed by. Looking through the window inside, he saw old wooden shelves stuffed with cages and a few animals running about. Kneazels, cats, knarls, crups and a few other lizard-like creatures, which Harry would have to get a closer look to identify, scurried about. Taking a deep breath in anticipation of the stench such an establishment would inevitably generate he stepped inside.

Harry exhaled and then breathed in, surprised that some sort of air freshening charm was in use. Instead of a stench, the room smelled quite pleasant.

"What may I do for you?" the old proprietor, an ancient witch with a shawl of spider webs stepped forward. "We have cats and kneazels…"

"We are looking for owls," Arthur said. "A larger one preferably and young as possible."

"Hmm…" the old woman rubbed her chin while absently shooing away the palm-sized hairy spiders that were approaching her face. Looking at Ron, who was about to faint, she smiled a toothless grin. "What's the matter, lad, don't care for spiders this big?"

"I've seen bigger," Ron squeaked and then turned around quickly. Without looking he took a couple of steps and ran directly into a large birdcage that was covered with a heavy black cover. The inhabitant in the cage screeched in anger and threw itself against the side, causing the cover to slip off onto the floor.

"Blasted creature!" the witch screeched as she summoned a broom. Swatting the broom at the cage and the large bat inside, she yelled, "Foul animal…" Putting the broom down she snarled at the cage. "For well over one hundred and twenty years I've dealt with animals – and a good share of bats at that. Most unpleasant, uncooperative bat I've seen. Most intelligent one too… smarter than the smartest Kneazel, that one. Nearly escaped… Doesn't get along well with other animals, although it did seem to get along with the Runespoor I kept. I had it in a cage by the bat until the Magical Creatures Department could come by and pick it up so they could relocate it to a safe area." She winked at her visitors, "Can't sell Runespoors-- quite lethal you know… but if I come across one, I make sure I take it out of circulation. Civic duty and all. Yah, that bat did get along with the Runespoor just fine he did… odd creepy thing…"

George and Fred approached the cage. The bat climbed back on its perch and hung upside down, regarding them with its deep black eyes. Occasionally it panned over to Arthur and Molly if knowing their presence would keep the twins in line. Eventually the bat focused on Arthur and began a few low screeches as if he were trying to get the wizard's attention.

"Greasy thing isn't it," George said.

"What type is it?" Fred asked the witch as he approached.

"If you paid attention in school you would have probably knew…" Molly sighed.

"Well, we'll ask the Magical Creatures expert," Fred said. "Paging Mr. Harry Potter…" No sooner did he say the name, the bat went into frenzy again, flying around the cage and beating its body against the bars.

Harry approached the cage and looked in. "Not like any bat I've ever seen."

"Well, bats are not normally greasy and they normally don't have yellow teeth," Fred observed.

"What does it eat?" George asked.

"Interested in it?" the witch asked, smiling. "Eats about anything. Prefers blood sausage pudding and some pumpkin juice. Figured it to be some sort of giant vampire bat, but given what it eats and the short teeth, I figured it might be, at best, only part." She carefully stuck her finger in the cage, trying to pat its neck but pulled it out quickly as the bat lunged to bite her. "My guess is the Mum as most other bats wouldn't let a male vampire bat mate with it – that is, when they're up to mating outside their species… Just a guess of course…"

"Plus, you don't see them around here," Harry added. "Are you sure it isn't someone's pet?"

"Boy, dare you offend me!" the witch snapped. "I make sure that every animal is homeless – I provide them a temporary home with good food and warmth until I can place them."

"And make a few sickles on the side," Harry said under his breath. Fortunately the old woman didn't hear. He said louder, "Just making the observation that it isn't native to this area."

The witch nodded and patted the boy on the shoulder indicating no offense taken.

"You don't mean to buy that!" Molly asked her twin sons as she pointed at the cage. Seeing Ginny approach the cage she warned, "Careful with your fingers dear…"

"Well, we could use a mascot in Weasley Wizard Wheezes," Fred noted. George nodded in agreement. "We'll still get you your owl…"

"And given the apparent demise of our esteemed Potions Master…" George added. The two young men took off their hats and placed them over their hearts showing a form of mock respect.

"Who was the only instructor in all of Hogwarts, save for perhaps Flitwick, who could teach you dunderheads anything," Molly interrupted. The bat in the cage folded its wings and nodded in agreement. She looked at it closely. It had climbed off the perch and was now circling the bottom of the cage. "Most greasy, ugly and foul tempered thing I've ever seen. Look how it stalks around the cage. Just scary…"

"We shall call him Severus… for Severus Snape," Fred announced.

"We'll keep him in the shop, with a bronzed plaque on his cage," George noted.

"We will tease him," Fred said.

"And torment him," George said.

"And feed him our experiments as a test subject," Fred said.

"Better than first years," George added.

"YOU DID WHAT!" Molly screeched. "Arthur, did you hear what your sons…!"

"You do not purchase an animal to torment it," Arthur said. "If you wish to have a mascot for the store, then treat it well, otherwise let it free to take its chances with the elements." The twins looked a bit guilty. "Better. It's your money but I didn't raise you to act like Malfoys." He approached the cage and the bat came closer him. "Something quite odd here…"

"Fine, we'll take good care of it," Fred said.

"We were only kidding really," George added. "But this would add a bit more atmosphere."

"The place is a zoo," Molly just about snapped. "If your store had any more atmosphere it would be a complete chaotic circus."

"Just the atmosphere we need!" the young men said in a chorus.

"Just three Galleons and one sickles seven knuts and he's yours," the witch chortled as she produced a 'Sold' sign with a wave of her wand.

[SECTION]

Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a small store situated close to Quality Quiddich supplies. Given the location and the great amount of care the twins took in making a rather festive interior, business was doing well. During the summer and holidays they were packed with students from Hogwarts and other, minor, wizarding schools. During term, they kept busy with their Owl Order, busily collecting and filling orders as they arrived and shipping out box after box using the local Owl service.

The front of the store consisted on a brightly painted front door and a large display glass where they showed their newest and their most popular goods. In the store were various multi-colored shelves, modestly packed with goods, as they were slowly making stock as their finances could afford. Scattered along the walls were posters that featured the various items and some rather hilarious enchanted cartoon captions whose inhabitants double as on the floor salespeople hocking the wares. Occasionally a few of the enchanted items leapt off the shelves and chased after the customers – the perpetual fireworks in particular had a habit of giving their own display at least twice a day while the endless bouncing balls often got loose from their cartons and there were always three or four ricocheting off the walls, floor and ceiling. The back of the store was a bit more conventional. It had a counter with a basic register and a couple of signs including: 'Muggle Cash Accepted' and '10% Discount for Gryffindors. Slytherins Pay Double.'

Today, however, the stores gay atmosphere was intensified by a generous array of colorful banners and streamers, as Hermione Granger was discharged from St. Mungo's that evening. Arthur and Molly Weasley agreed to take her to meet her Aunt and Uncle for her to stay until her parents recovered or until the new term began. But, on their way they had stopped, at least briefly, at the store for a small celebration.

"Don't think Severus here could be trained to deliver packages," Fred observed as he tapped his bottle of butterbeer against the side of the cage.

"I don't think he can do much other than stalk the cage and hiss at the customers," George agreed.

"I think he's taken to his name a bit too well," Lee Jordan noted as he approached the cage. "Pity about the other git."

"You mean **_Professor_** Snape," Molly Weasley asked, with a strain in her voice. "He is a Hogwarts professor, not a git."

"He's a Hogwarts professor who happens to be a git," Harry corrected. "Or, was a git…" He said the last softly, quite unsure how to emotionally take the apparent demise of the Potions Master. Yes, he was told the wizard was just missing, but it had been too long and Harry began to suspect, as others in the Order did as well, that Severus Snape, a major spy for the Order of the Phoenix was majorly dead. And, as much as he despised the man, he was starting to understand and appreciate his dangerous role in helping the Order.

"Well, if you didn't keep him near the window all the time," Hermione began, "the poor thing would probably be less agitated. They're nocturnal. And feeding it Bertie Bots probably isn't best for his diet."

"But he loves them," George said, plopping a red one into the bat's cage. They all watched as the bat looked at the young man and then picked up the jelly bean, taking a small bite. With a thrust, the bat threw it out the cage and spat the rest at George. "Cherry one, apparently."

"Oh for Merlin's beard!" Hermione said with disgust. "Let me see him!"

"He'll bite," Molly warned.

"Yeah, he's not nice, like House Elves," Harry pointed out. "And you know how…err…difficult your crusade is coming along."

The young witch took the bat's cage off the hanger and brought it over to a nearby table, close to the front window. The sun had gone down about an hour ago, the few remnant rays of light casting an odd glow on Diagon Alley. Addressing Lee, she asked, "Turn down the lights, just a little, will you. Enough to see, but enough to begin to quiet him."

"Hagrid's protégé," Fred sighed, pointing at Hermione.

Hermione gently opened the cage. She looked at the bat, which looked back at her. It cocked its head, as if it were considering something and then slowly started to move towards here. "That's it," she said. "I just want to figure out what you are so I can tell these dunderheads how to properly take care of you." She smiled as the bat came even closer and she offered her arm. "I won't pet you," she said, "you don't seem to be the cuddling type."

Before the bat could get out of its cage, Fred closed the door. "Try it again in a moment," he said, tapping his finger towards the window. "Looks like we have a customer."

Hermione turned her head and saw a woman with a dark cloak and hooded head leaning against the glass and looking in the store, staring directly at the cage.

"Come in, come in!" George called as he opened the door. Stepping out into the cold air, he ushered the witch in. "Care for some Canary Creams or some Snot Suckers? Miss…"

The witch pulled down her hood.

"Professor?" Hermione said rhetorically. "Erm… may we help you?"

"So, this is the famous place," Ruedella Lestrange said as she took in the room, her eyes frequently darting to the cage. "I suppose that you are the ones responsible for the Troll Dung Quills?"

"Ah, one of our most successful inventions," the twins said in unison.

"You were the ones that created THAT!" Hermione curled her lip and wrinkled her nose. "The quill looks normal but the ink, the next day, smells like Troll…erm"

"Troll shit," Ron added. "At least take off the charm that makes them explode when Prefects get them. Really, a joke is a joke, but that's disgusting."

"Now, now, we have a customer to take care of," Fred said, motioning with his hands for them to be quiet. "How may we help you? We do have some tongue taffy. Great for family get-togethers. Just put it in a candy bowl and watch the fun."

"Makes everyone's tongues gigantic," George added with a chortle. "Or, how about Canary drops?" He held up a small yellow bottle. "A variation of our Canary Creams… just a few drops in a punchbowl and all that drink thereafter are turned into Canaries."

"For a few sickles more we can put a time release," Fred said.

"After a few hours the potion takes effect. No point in having the potion work immediately as then people would be wise to the punch," George elaborated.

Lestrange walked around the shop pointing at a few items, including the Tongue Taffys and the exploding snaps before she ended up back at the table next to the bat. "Interesting pet. Professor Snape used to have one just like this when he was a boy."

"Really?" George said. "We named him Severus Snape in honor of the departed…"

"He isn't dead," Ruedella said a bit too quickly. "I expect him back quite soon now… yes, quite soon."

"They've found the body?" Molly Weasly asked, rhetorically, frowning as Arthur nudged her. Fortunately Lestrange did not hear or was ignoring her.

"We've only had him for a day. Got him yesterday," Fred said as he packed up her modest order. Nodding towards the bag, he asked, "Care for anything else?"

Ruedella was studying the cage and the bat and George's question caught her by surprise. "Err… yes. A few Troll Dung Quills and the Canary Drops, with the time release."

"Looking to have a good time in the faculty lounge are we?" Fred asked.

"The quills are for grading failing students or those," she looked directly at Hermione, "who insist on going beyond the maximum parchment length. The Canary Drops are for tomorrow night. Narcissa Malfoy is having a little party and they can be just so boring."

"Ah, a witch who appreciates our art," George bowed. "We are indeed honored."

"Well, Severus speaks of you often," Ruedella said.

"A complicated love-hate thing," George said, rubbing his chin. "Although more on the hate side… no offense to your husband."

"None taken as the feelings are mutual…" Ruedella shrugged.

"Anything else we may do? Otherwise the total is one Galleon, six sickles and four knuts…" Fred pronounced.

"Well there is just one thing," Ruedella said, approaching the cage. "I cannot help just staring at your bat. As I said … the resemblance is uncanny…"

"Resemblance to Professor Snape or to his last bat?" Ron asked jokingly.

Ruedella let out a fake chuckle and a small, strained smile. "Severus has been through so much the last few weeks and, although I did get him some interesting Yule gifts, this would really bring a smile on his face… Bring back pleasant boyhood memories."

"Didn't know Professor Snape could smile," Fred said.

"Almost forgot that he was, at one time, probably a boy too," George added.

"Of course, I would more than compensate you for your original purchase price and your time," Ruedella offered.

The twins and the witch continued to negotiate and Hermione turned and walked a few steps over to Ron and Harry. Harry was leaning on the counter and flipping through his new study guide.

"There's something strange here," Hermione whispered to her friends.

"No doubt," Harry said, flipping through a few pages showing bats. "I'm looking through the Magical Creatures guide. Even if I look at Muggle bats and the ones not just found in our world, I can't find a match."

"Well, the witch that sold him said that she thought he was a mixed blood," Ron said.

"Find the ones that understand language," Hermione said. "Reminded me of Crookshanks and he's part Kneazel…"

"None of the bats, including the giant vampire bat is sentient or semi-sentient," Harry said. "So if that one is part Giant Vampire bat and part muggle bat, there's no reason why he'd understand you." Harry looked at his friends and then over to the twins and the witch who were still talking. "And the snout. No bat has a snout that big…"

"Bats aren't greasy either," Ron added.

Hermione gasped and her eyes flew open. She looked at Harry who apparently arrived at the same epiphany.

"_Monstrare Transfiguration_," Harry called at the book as he tapped it with his wand.

Hermione took the book away from Harry and flipped through it. "I remember something from last summer. When we were in Grimmauld Place. Here. Here it is!" She pointed to a particular page. "Ron, go over and block the door. Make sure she doesn't leave." She and Harry exchanged a meaningful nod and she walked over to Lestrange.

"I almost had him out of the cage," Hermione said. "I was trying to show them how to properly take care of him. They leave him out in the front window during the day and feed him Bertie Botts."

"And some blood sausages," Fred offered quickly.

"Really now," Ruedella shook her head. "A creature like this does not belong in a shop. If it cannot be free – as you can see this one has been domesticated…"

"Could have fooled me," Arthur Weasley piped in.

"Well, it takes to its cage, although it prefers out and it isn't used to you yet," Ruedella said.

"Perhaps you should get it out? Show them how to handle it?" Hermione said.

"Would you agree then, if the bat-- which we can perfectly see is quite unusually intelligent-- prefers my company that you young men do the right thing and sell him to me so that I can provide him with a more appropriate home with an owner who is quite familiar with his… erm… unique needs?" Ruedella asked, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow. Seeing the twins nod, she gently opened the cage door and held out her forearm. "Now," she said to the bat, "Would you prefer to come with me and be more like your old self soon or stay here and be a favored mascot for these… err… fine young men?"

The bat stood at the edge of the opening for a second and then crawled onto her hand. She held it up, as it hung onto her arm, and she scratched it under the ear. "Yes, a bit of quiet in a dark room and a warm fire…" The bat glared at her. "Okay, no fire." She turned back to the boys. "Eight Galleons should cover it then?" Hearing the bat screech, she added, "I think he wants me to pay ten… thinks highly of himself and…"

Before she could finish, Hermione quickly grabbed the bat, pushed Lestrange out of the way and put the bat on the floor, stepping back quickly. Harry, stepped forward with his wand out and yelled, "_Redux Homo,_" looking on as a bright yellow light flew from the tip of his wand and hit the bat.

The animal flailed on the floor as its high-pitched screeches began to turn into the more human tones of a deep-throated yell of pain. The bat enlarged and slowly transformed into a man; a dark greasy haired man in his nightshirt.

"What have you done!" Ruedella screamed at Harry. "Must you ruin EVERYTHING! Do you know what will happen! I was going to take him to Dumbledore straight away!" She knelt beside the unconscious Snape and pulled off her cloak, putting it on him like a blanket. She pulled up his head onto her lap and stroked his hair. "My gods… I am so sorry…" she whispered. "I wanted to fix what I have done… I am so sorry…"

[SECTION]

"These is no point in him going to prison for my mistake," Ruedella hissed at Arthur and Harry who waited with her in the large white waiting room of St. Mungos. "Suffice it to say that I turned him into a bat, he flew off and we located him. Harry, concerned about his welfare, took it upon himself to turn him back. A boy who can do a solid Patronus could probably do a NEWT level transfiguration as well."

"But he is an unregistered animagus," Arthur countered. "And, for a man who is not a rule breaker and abhors such behavior, I find that his little secret is quite disturbing. Makes me wonder what else he might be hiding…"

"He used this to serve the Order. If he were registered, he would have been discovered and killed long ago." Ruedella interrupted quickly. "I did a stupid thing during a situation that I am not going to discuss."

"Dumbledore knows?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Ruedella replied. She looked out towards the window the led into the hall and saw two Aurors walking towards the door. "Just tell them that for now – that's all you know…" She pulled Arthur from the chair and pushed him towards the door. "Just buy some time until he gets here…" Watching the wizard exit the room, she slumped into a chair and covered her eyes with a forearm. She sat for a few moments until she heard the grinding of furniture on the floor. "What in gods…" she uncovered her eyes and watched as Harry finished pushing a small table across the floor to his chair. "Couldn't you levitate that?"

"Can't do magic outside of Hogwarts," Harry replied. Seeing the witch's expression, he added, "That does sound dumb given everything."

"Simply asinine," Ruedella snapped tersely through clenched teeth as she shook her head.

Harry proceeded to empty his pockets, and satchel pulling out handfuls of candy and putting it on the table. Pulling out a chocolate frog from the stack, he offered it to the witch – a kind of token peace offering. She took it and expertly opened up the package, quickly capturing the frog before it hopped out. Holding it by its leg, she opened the pack further to take out the card. "Ploggins Perkins," she said, flipping it on the table. "Interesting fellow. Skilled in charms and potions. Claimed to have made an elixir to bring back the newly dead." She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry, "A golem maker, I'd think." She nodded towards a folded piece of paper that she recognized. "Was it useful."

"I haven't looked at it…yet," Harry said. "Given that…err…your brother…"

"I don't blame people for events when they are defending themselves," Ruedella said. "There are fates far worse than death, and I feel that perhaps you released him." She grabbed the paper and opened it. "Given my condition, I wouldn't be surprised if this were the same nonsense I produced for that other clarification regarding you."

"So it WAS about me," Harry said.

"I don't' know," Ruedella said truthfully. "From the commotion, I can only assume so… You never did ask Granger did you?"

"She said it wasn't about me," Harry said. "I think she's sparing my feelings…"

"Believe what you want then," she replied flippantly, as she shook her head. Referring back to the paper she said, while tapping it, "He did not die in vain and does not believe his life was wasted."

Harry turned to the witch and swallowed hard. "But he wanted to be free… I know it…"

"Of course he did, Potter," Lestrange said. "And you did free him." She tilted the paper a bit. "You didn't free him from being a fugitive. When he left Azkaban, he traded one curse for another… but his death freed him and at the same time he believed he saved your life."

"But I caused it all! I was the one who rushed into the situation, bringing my friends into it, thinking that I had to save the day!" Harry said. "Had I listened he would still be alive."

"Like how you rushed to 'save' Professor Snape?" Ruedella shot back. "Now Weasley has to lie to the Aurors to get them off our backs so that Severus doesn't have to go to prison." She looked harshly at Harry, "Your cause has few allies; you need to take what you can get and preserve what you have."

Harry slumped in his chair, looking in the box of Bertie Beans for a few seconds before tossing it on the table. Then, he said, softly, "Is he happier now?"

Ruedella sighed and looked at the paper once again. "The question you asked was, 'Regarding the event in the Ministry earlier this year – Did I waste Sirius' life?'" She looked at the boy, "Most of his life was an idle playboy waste before you were born, but I digress…" She looked at the paper, "Now, let me see… He did not die in vain, his life was cursed and the event released him. You learned that the Dark Lord could control you and you forced him to reveal himself, turning the tide that was against you." She folded the paper, "The clarification reveals nothing more, as there was no more depth to the question you asked. However, if these events did not take place what do you think life would be like now?"

"Voldemort would have control over me, Dumbledore would still be in exile and the Ministry would still be in denial, or worse…" Harry said.

"And, of the things Sirius Black fought for would have turned for the far worse," Ruedella concluded. "This is not to condone reckless behavior, but sometimes there can be some good…"

"If I only had a time turner…" Harry lamented. "Just a few turns and I could have warned them it was a trap… we could have been prepared and still end up with the same results, but without Sirius dead!"

"But you didn't," Ruedella said. "And what is done is done. Trust me, it is a very difficult concept to deal with. Were you supposed to have the time turner, it would have been available."

Harry looked at her. "What?"

The witch held up her hand and reached for her purse, a stylish black cloth purse with a simple silver clasp. Opening it up, she dumped a few contents, a small notebook, a few self-inking quills and a fine tortoise-shell comb with the Malfoy emblem on it. Sorting through other odds and ends, she picked up a piece of parchment, and retrieving her wand, changed it into a foot long piece of string. Laying it out straight she said, "When I was a girl, my father told me a bit about fooling with time. I didn't appreciate it much until I was a bit older when someone a bit wiser explained it more fully and I had a bit of a context. Time, as most of us know it is linear. We had yesterday, then today, then later today, tomorrow and so forth." She moved her finger along the string as she spoke. "What happens, for the most part, cannot be changed. Time Turners were a device developed for very limited use – studying, research… very, very strict controls." She moved the string a bit, forming a double loop in the center. Moving her finger along the bottom of the string, where there was still a straight line, she said, "From an outsider, they would see this linear progression. To the one using the time turner, they see this…" She moved her finger along the inner loop. "This is what really happened." Then she moved around the outer loop. "This is what they had to do to make it right. When they don't make it right," she shook a bit and then added, "that's when things get unstable."

Harry rubbed his head and then took the string. "What if," he said, carefully choosing his words as he rearranged the string into a long line with a single circle. "What if you are moving along this line and think you witness something where your 'other self' was actually manipulating the events…"

"I'm not following you Potter," Lestrange said as the conjured another string. Laying it besides the first, she recreated the double looped pattern. "A person has to witness the first string of events and then go back and change them. At least, that is certainly what I understand."

"But you said that if was meant to be, a time turner would have been available because, well, say that your other self had already put itself back in time." Harry pointed at the double loop. "By your explanation, there can only be one loop, as your other self had gone back in time as you were going through the first series of events." Harry paused and took a deep breath. "For example," he tapped his chin to show feigned thought, "let's say, just for speculation, that you thought you witnessed a murder of one person and then later in that timeline went to help someone else but put yourself in great danger. It turns out that you ended up saving yourself from the danger, but of course your 'first' self doesn't know that." Harry pointed to his single loop diagram. "So, you can support part of your argument in that it was 'supposed' to happen, because… well…erm… it always happened that way." He pointed to the double loop, and said, "But here instead it looks like someone is manipulating time. That the 'real' timeline had the event take place and you purposefully went back to change it." He shrugged. "So, I suppose, if I'm right, that if I had a time turner and saved Sirius, I would be in a double loop scenario – changing something that 'should' have happened – versus participating in a series of events through time that should have taken place to right something wrong." He then pointed at the single loop and then looked up at Lestrange, who was quite green in the face. "Are you well, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Err…" Ruedella scooped up the contents off the table and threw them in her purse. "I suppose it's an interesting enough theory, Potter," she said quickly without looking at him, but her gray eyes darted around as if she were thinking. Seeing the nurse standing in the doorway, she nodded at the boy and otherwise wordlessly walked out of the room.

[SECTION]

Severus Snape sat on a restored armchair in the reading room of his bedroom suite staring into an empty fireplace. He cupped a snifter of Brandy in his left hand and gently swirled it, not taking a single sip.

"Would Master care for a fire or some food?" the young male elf, Theod, asked timidly. It shrank back as Severus turned and bore his black eyes back.

"Master is perfectly capable of starting a fire," Severus said as he twirled his long ebony wand in his right hand in a threatening manner.

The elf bowed and started to back from the room. It was a well-trained elf, Severus noted, despite it being raised most of its adult life without the company of humans. He preferred this one and its female mate to the elderly, deteriorating house elf that belonged to the Blacks. But, Kreacher did serve his purpose and for that Severus was willing to tolerate him some more. "If Master requires anything," it began.

"Master requires his wife," Severus said tersely. "Tell Mistress that she is summoned…" Before he could finish, the elf disappeared with a loud crack.

He sat silently, returning his stare to the cold, dark fireplace. He had gotten used to a lack of fire in a hearth, mainly because a roaring fire invited unwanted guests via floo. He enjoyed his privacy to pursue his darker hobbies – things that Dumbledore would have forbidden outright. And, as such, all but a few well chosen and trusted portraits hung in the Hogwarts dungeons and his private quarters and his fireplaces were always unlit to ensure that no one was exactly sure what he was up to. He became accustomed to the dark, even as a boy preferred it. He often wondered if that spurred his secret animagus form, or if it were the other way around. As he contemplated, he heard the door unlatch and some soft footsteps that approached. He flicked his wand and heard a gasp as a smaller ebony wand flew towards him and into his lap.

"Why?" he asked simply, still staring into the empty fireplace.

"Severus…" the voice pleaded, "I am so sorry. I only meant for you to go into the cage. I meant it for only a short time. To show you how it felt to feel trapped. I did not mean…"

Severus sprang from the chair and in a quick movement faced Ruedella. He threw the snifter at the wall, ignoring the loud shatter but pleased as he watched Ruedella jump. With a quick movement with his wand, he watched as the witch flew across the room and into the bookcase and sneered as she vainly tried to cover her head as the large tomes fell on her. He took a few steps towards her and grabbed her hair, yanking her head up.

"All that I have done! Saving your sorry skin and offering you a life without want and this is how you repay me!?" he bellowed, spit hitting her face with each word.

Ruedella looked at him squarely in the eye, fearful, but attempting to display some honesty. "Severus, I did not mean… I was stupid, foolish… ungrateful…" She fumbled in her pocket, gasping as Severus pulled her hair harder. "No tricks… your present…" she said in between breaths as she pulled out a small elegantly wrapped gift and held it up to him.

He snorted and grabbed it with his free hand shoving it roughly into his robe pocket. "Some small token, a minor trinket…" he mocked.

"No!" Ruedella yelled but whimpered as he tugged roughly on her hair again. "Look at me, Severus. I swear, I meant you no harm… I was stupid, foolish… you have no idea how I felt about losing you!"

"That the Dark Lord would finish you off, no doubt," Severus yelled back, a vein on his temple throbbing with each breath and his yellowed teeth bared menacingly.

"I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE DARK LORD!" Ruedella yelled back and then shrunk back as she saw Severus' eyes flare. "If you don't believe me then look…" She pointed to her eyes. "Go ahead, if you won't believe my words…"

"Dare even try to block me," Severus sneered, "and you shall regret it…" He let go of her roughly and took a step back. "Legilimens," he said softly, under his breath. A series of images and emotions flashed through his head, including her plan of simply capturing him and letting him loose and restoring him after a short time. He cocked his head, absorbing her feeling of shame as his screaming form turned and her panic as he escaped out the open window. The endless days and nights of searching and her tireless quest to find him. And, in this all, there was an underlying emotion that he did not quite recognize; one that he had not felt himself for some time.

As he started pulled away from her mind, Ruedella let out a sigh. "The Dark Lord did threaten me, but all will end well," she said quietly. Severus twitched his head and looked at the witch, her eyes locked onto his. Their minds were not quite separate and he could feel her there, not prodding or poking but simply there, like a guest standing in a doorway asking for permission to enter. At that moment, a random scene passed into his mind – a series of past events that he wished he had banished to a Pensieve years ago. He was at Godric Hollow, complete in his Death Eater garb, telling James Potter that their location had been compromised and that they should leave. The next set of images showed him upstairs grabbing Lily's arm trying to get her to go with him and then the final set of images showed him standing alongside the Dark Lord looking on as the wizard took the Potter's lives.

"You… were there?" Ruedella said, as she saw everything just as clearly as he.

"How dare you!" Severus screamed, his voice echoing loudly in the chamber.

"You were the one…" Ruedella stammered. "I couldn't help but see…" She screamed as Severus slashed his wand, a bright white light swallowed her right forearm. Her eyes bulged as the curse began to consume her flesh, the spell aging the part of her body at a greatly accelerated rate. She watched as her skin began to dry and tighten on her arm and the bones in her hand became more pronounced, crackling as the spell wore its effects. Soon the skin began to flake away revealing nothing but bleached bone.

Over her shrieks, Severus heard a voice behind him. He turned to a portrait of his father, Nefarious, which hung next to the fireplace. "Well done, my boy," the painted wizard began. "I knew that I should have not wasted by time with Sirius and Regulus – spineless, weak they were. You on the other hand are a champion… there is much talk about you and I can see for myself why." He nodded to Ruedella who was whimpering in pain, her useless boned forearm lie limp at her side. "She will never betray you again. Oh her Malfoy breeding will entertain the thought, but each of them has an underlying drive for self-preservation." he said calmly, looking at the witch cooly. "If she does, you know what to do."

Severus stared at the portrait in disbelief, as these were the first civil words he had ever heard his father say to him – living or otherwise. Ever since he took charge of the house, Nefarious' portrait refused to say a word; it silently sulked and frowned in its frame. Slowing turning back to Ruedella, Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gift she had given him. "For what little this is worth," he sneered and tossed the small package in his hand to get a better grip so he could throw it. As flipped it in his hand, the top of the gift came off, revealing a silver and gold glint that caught his eye. Curious, he took the box and inspected the contents – a fine gold and silver inlaid ring of a design that he had learned of through bedtime stories; stories that his mother had told him as a boy of the many fine things that their family once had and his responsibility that he regain them. Many fine things including that of cherished and prized family signet ring that now sat in his hand.

He dropped to his knees and pulled the ring out of the box. It was exactly as his imagination had envisioned it -- down to the emerald inlays and the snake detailed band. "Where did you…" he asked Ruedella, who immediately jumped and cowered at the sound of his voice. He gasped as watching Ruedella caused a flashback – that of his own mother cowering from one of his father's not so frequent but unwelcome visits. Finding the memory so disturbing given the context, he took a deep breath and then looked back at the ring. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard and then let out a primeval roar to release his anger. After he was through, he waved his wand, reversing the curse on the witch and stood helplessly as he watch as her arm slowly restore. He concluded from Ruedella's agonizing wails that the pain of the restoration was as intense as that of the curse itself.

"What are you doing!" Nefarius shrieked. "You weak…!"

Severus jumped to his feet and turned on heel to face the portrait. Placing his wand in his pocket, he tugged at the Black family signet ring that sat on his hand. "For your great-nephew," Severus said as he then held up the Black ring and put it in his pocket. Then he placed the Snape family ring on his finger. He turned his head back at Ruedella, who had passed out on the pile of books and then, with a quick movement he pulled out his wand and blasted the portrait, causing it to burst into flame. "I will not be you. Nor will I be your son. But I will happily be your heir." He said the last with a grizzled laugh of final triumph.

He watched the portrait burn, the flame purifying the canvas and his spirit. He felt lighter, released from a terrible pain that had yoked him for years. He looked down on his hand and rubbed the ring that sat on his finger. He then turned slowly to Ruedella and gazed upon her form, allowing for the first time in years for him to actually feel emotions other than hate and anger. After a short time, he walked over to her, carefully picking her up so that he could attend to her wounds.

[END OF CHAPTER]

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	20. Going Back to the Present

**Author's Notes: **Thanks again for reading and I appreciate your comments. I hope you like this chapter. The next one will be a bit more on the light side, but important nonetheless. For those who have made comments, I will do some personal responses next chapter – promise!

**Chapter 20 – Going Back to the Present  
  
**A few weeks later: After Yule Break – January 1997

Harry angrily clutched the papers in his hand and walked briskly down the hall. His scowl deepened with every step, until, at last he looked quite cross by the time he reached the Gryffindor common room. He stood by the portrait of the Fat Lady, his mind searching for the password, but he was so angry that all he could do was stare blankly at her.

"Mr. Potter, if you would please," the Fat Lady said indignantly.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said quite brusquely. "Something else on my mind. Err… 'Snaffeling Snitches'" he finally recalled the password and then mumbled it distractedly. He hurried through the opening and threw himself on the nearest unoccupied overstuffed couch. Sighing angrily he took the one parchment and opened it. It contained an extensive list of potions ingredients as well as some supplies.

"What do you have there mate?" Ron's voice cut Harry's concentration.

Harry looked over the parchment and then moved his legs, allowing his friend to sit down. He handed the list to Ron who looked rather confused. "McGonagall promised last year that she'd do everything in her power to ensure that I became an Auror. That apparently includes extra potions tutoring."

"More time with Snape?" Ron scoffed.

"I doubt it," Harry said. "He had a fit when Dumbledore insisted that I be allowed in his class at the beginning this term. Fortunately, the git had given permission to Malfoy and Dumbledore pointed out that I had scored slightly higher on my potions O.W.L.s than he – granted we had some luck with that Polyjuice Potion question. Snape made some comment to McGonagall when we returned today that I had done poorly last period so she is insisting that I spend some time with her each week."

"Between Quidditch, your… err… other tutoring with… err… you know… and then this?" Ron scratched his head. "When will you sleep?"

"I don't need the practice!" Harry snapped. "I've been working hard and trying to overlook the git – I've been focusing and actually my potions have been turning out well. Ask Hermione, she even commented a few times about it. Snape's just being difficult given what happened over break." Harry said the last softly looking around the room to make sure no one was listening to them.

"If looks were poison," Ron said, "Snape could have killed you over dinner. Not very gracious considering…"

"He's a git," Harry spat and motioned with his hand to get the list back. "And I'd especially warn your brothers to keep their distance – lucky for them that they're out of school."

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing to a sealed envelope that sat on Harry's lap. The outside was neatly addressed.

_To: Professor Severus Snape_

_From: Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

Harry held it up and smiled. "She does have a subtle way of informing him of his pecking status in the school. I don't know the exact wording but she said it was a brief letter informing Snape that his cooperation without penalty on my part was… well… required."

"Do it or she'll turn him into a bat, in other words," Ron said with a smile. "Well, might as well get it over with. I need to talk to you regarding some ideas I have for some new Quidditch plays. I can walk you down…"

"Brave of you," Harry said, slowly getting up.

"I'll walk you to the door, but I'm not going in," Ron said playfully.

[SECTION]

Harry and Ron approached the closed door to Snape's office.

"Oh, he's out," Ron said quickly and turned around. He stopped when Harry clasped him on the shoulder.

Harry knocked with his free hand and waited for a second. The door unlatched and opened slowly and he heard Snape call out a very annoyed, 'Enter.'

To Harry's surprise and relief, Ron followed him in. Snape's office was small and was lined with shelves of preserved creatures and other oddities, including a sizable stash collection of herbs and exotic preserved plants. Off to the side the wizard had apparently enlarged the room to make way for a long table that was covered with an elaborate maze of interconnected glass tubing, decanters and cauldrons. To the right was a tidy table of numerous ingredients in various sized vials and bottles, each labeled and apparently placed in a very specific order. From behind the wall of glass and metal, Snape lifted his head and stared down his nose at the two young wizards.

"Dumbledore mentioned that you would be by," he said matter-of-factly, his tone conveying that this visit was indeed forced upon him.

"Yes sir," Harry said, stepping to the side and handing Snape the parchments, with the sealed letter on top, making sure to pick a point well away from the delicate equipment. He stepped back and was silent as the wizard inspected the letter. Snape's thin lips frowned even more as he noted how it was addressed. He opened it and read it, rolling his eyes.

Snape scanned the elaborate set up for a second and checked the cauldrons. "I suppose that this list would have been a bit of an effort for you to simply pilfer – as you had done before," Snape said casually.

"Oh sir," Harry said, with mock respect in his voice, "There is no way that I could have gotten through your wards. I would wager that even most of the faculty would get seriously hurt if they tried. I certainly could not surpass your skill there."

"Nor should you attempt it – again…" Snape said snarkily. "I have reinforced the wards… and traps… considerably. Dumbledore, of course, would not allow me to put up anything lethal, but I assure you that any trespasser would wish he were dead."

"Oh, I certainly believe you sir," Harry said. "Sirius Black frequently remarked that you had an extensive talent in many areas of magic."

Snape's eyes flashed at Sirius' name. His mind raced, trying to find a way to pick apart the statement. Unable to see through Harry's defenses, at least easily, he simply snorted and walked over to a side door. Turning quickly on heel to the boys he growled, "Touch NOTHING!" and then disappeared through the door – apparently a storage room of some sort – closing it behind him.

"He's in a good mood," Ron said as he inspected the equipment. "One doosey of a potion he's whipping up." He walked over to the ingredients table and motioned Harry over to join him. Two rows of about a dozen labeled bottles stood in a precise line. At the top edge of the table, flanked on each side, sat two small square jars, both topped with a rounded stopper. The ingredients inside were of a fine red powder; the color and consistency reminded Harry of dry raspberry Gelatin that just came from the box.

Curious, Harry picked up one of the vials carefully. He noted the label, 'Essence of Youth' and the picked up the other; it was labeled, 'Extract of Time.' It must have been the dampness of the dungeons compounded by the humidity resulting from the simmering cauldrons, but as Harry went to put the vials back, the labels slipped off and onto the floor. Harry's eyes opened wide and he looked over to the storage room door. "Here," he said quickly, handing the jars to Ron and then he stooped down to pick up the labels. He rose and looked at Ron, "Hand me the jar that was in my left hand," he asked. Ron handed him a jar. "No, that was in my right hand," Harry corrected nervously, his eyes darting to the door.

"That was in your left hand. See," Ron held out his left hand. "Oh, your left hand would be my right hand when you hand me something and then when I adjusted my grip, what was in my left hand I switched to my right, just for a second and then I put it back into my left hand…" Ron looked at Harry, his blue eyes wide and a sick expression of fear crossed his face. "I think…"

"Ok," Harry said. "We have a 50/50 shot. I've faced worse odds before. Besides, I'd wager that he's already used them. The potions look nearly done…" He grabbed one of the jars and with his wand, performed a quick charm to affix one label. "Essence of Youth was on the left," he said quietly and placed the jar back in the exact spot where, at least, the original one labeled 'Essence of Youth' had been. Taking the other jar from Ron, he affixed the other label and put it back as well. Hearing Snape approach from behind the large wooden door, he pulled Ron away from the table and whispered. "Go now. I can hold him back, but you can't. He'll know…" Without another word, he watched as Ron nearly sprinted to the door.

Harry quickly distanced himself from the apparatus and went back to the approximate area he was standing when Snape left. Pulling out the reference book he idly flipped through it, as if he were doing a quick study. Snape strode into the room, but did not slam the door as he normally did. Harry suspected that the Potions Master did not wish to do anything to disturb the delicate experiment he was working on.

Snape tossed the list back at him. "Some of the ingredients McGonagall does not need. Others I need to order. Tell her that I will have the elves set up a suitable room." He sneered, "What a shame it would be to blow up Gryffindor Tower in some accident."

"I understood that Professor McGonagall received an Outstanding on her Potions N.E.W.T.s," Harry commented.

"Some things take practice and years without practicum can make some lessons hard to recall," Snape said dismissively.

"Like transfiguring inanimate objects into animals?" Harry replied, referring to the exploding glass kitten incident earlier that term. "Well, I am sure the Headmaster will look in. Heard he's quite keen on Potions. Earned himself an Order of Merlin or two, if I'm not mistaken." He nodded to the Potions Master who was now turning quite livid. "But I do appreciate your concern."

"It is indeed a shame that our society has allowed those so marginal to access higher education which was once reserved for the best and brightest. Now our busy faculty has to be saddled with additional tutoring of marginal students – convincing themselves of some delusion that they would make something of it," Snape sighed and picked up one of the jars Harry had held earlier.

Harry was about to say something but just watched for a second. He then cleared his throat and trying to calm his hatred and anger, lest that be a path that Snape could follow directly into his mind, he said. "I do appreciate the additional assistance, including that of Professor Lestrange." He paused as Snape's black eyes snapped up from the jar and bored directly into him. "You are right, I am receiving too much individual assistance. Perhaps you could talk to Professor McGonagall about letting Malfoy join us? Like me, I understand he was let into your class despite your rigorous requirements and I think that I should extend some sort of olive branch. Considering that I killed his cousin and because of me his father will probably be thrown through the Veil like a sack of rubbish, I'd like to make things up a little bit. Once, of course, that curious limp he acquired over break heals. Curious that, Professor," he continued, surprised that Snape did not interrupt him. "Hermione said she had used a disabling hex on a Death Eater who attacked her. Said whoever it was that Voldemort," Harry paused for a second as Snape winced, "must have been skimming the bottom of the wizard barrel… anyhow, curious coincidence…" Harry splayed his hands innocently, knowing full well that given the letter that Snape was not in a position to deduct points or otherwise take action. What he said directly was innocent enough, but the underlying meaning was far more poisonous. Given that he might have learned little in way of Potions from Snape, he did learn a whole new level of being undercutting and decided to vent his anger through more passive-aggressive means. Seeing Snape seethe, he nodded and added, "Perhaps not," and quickly walked out of the office.

[SECTION]

**Five Weeks Later – February 14th, 1997**

"A surprise?" Ruedella Lestrange repeated as she sat on the rough couch in Severus' private rooms. "I thought, Severus, that we agreed to let bygones…" she rubbed her forearm and winced.

"This is a pleasant surprise, I assure you," Severus said quickly, trying to hide a scowl. Opening a bottle of champagne, he poured two glasses and levitated one over to her.

"Champagne and a surprise for Valentine's Day?" Ruedella took the glass. "Should I check for Polyjuice?"

Severus took a seat next to her and stroked her face with his ring finger, his eyes more focused on his family signet ring than her face. "There is a little matter which we much… conclude… and I felt that perhaps, given our rather rough start, that we start at the beginning."

"Putting aside your grudges?" Ruedella asked.

He held up his glass. "For you and only you, Ruedella, I shall. All others will endure my distain until I can exact final revenge. A toast: To the future and to us being the most influential, respected and powerful wizarding couple in the world."

Ruedella nodded and took Severus' hand, turning it so she could see the signet ring. "To the House of Snape. Heir to the House of Black. Heir, upon the eventual death of my last brother to the House of Lestrange and, if you have the will, Heir to the House of Malfoy."

Their glasses met with a soft clink and each took a drink. Severus again caressed her face, "I do, Ruedella, have the will and you shall share in more than just being a willing partner." He stood up and offered his hand. "Now the surprise. Stand by the fireplace," he said nodding towards the unlit hearth.

Ruedella rose and obediently took the place where he had motioned. By her was a small square table with some items covered in a black velvet cloth. She stood quietly as Severus walked over and uncovered the items; three potions and a small, apparently empty Pensieve. Picking up one potion, a glittering green elixir in a small round bottle, he poured it into the Pensieve. Then, he picked up the other two potions, both were identical opaque flat blue, and handed her one. "Drink it," he said.

"What is all of this?" Ruedella asked.

"I though we agreed to a new life of trust?" Severus countered.

"It's not a matter of trust, but of curiosity," she replied.

"As I said before, I wish to start at the beginning and," he added, as he removed the stopper from his glass. "Drink and I shall explain as we go." They both drank the potion quickly and he took out his wand. "You do know how to retrieve memories for a Pensieve?" Seeing her nod, he put his wand to his temple. "This is quite an elaborate spell based loosely on some Dark Magic. Remember the Halloween party your Uncle hosted nearly 20 years ago?"

"The one where my brother Rodolphus was keen on pickling certain body parts of yours?" Ruedella asked rhetorically.

"Not necessary as he and Lucifer blasted apart the rose bushes before things could get very interesting," Severus said quickly. "Now focus on the party. The details of your Uncle's mansion…" He guided her wand up to her head. Soon a silver strand appeared at the tip of her wand by her temple. "Pull gently…" he said as he guided her hand to the potion-filled Pensieve. Repeating the process himself, he added his own memories to the Pensieve. "We can retrieve these later, of course…"

"Now what?" Ruedella asked, looking into the swirling green and silver liquid in the bowl.

"Here's where I need your assistance," Severus said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a parchment. He unfolded it and handed it to Ruedella. "The Runes need to be translated. I would have consulted you earlier, but…"

"You did not want to ruin the surprise," she said as she studied the parchment. "I hope all of this isn't time sensitive…" She furrowed her brow. "First, these are not really Runes." She smiled at Severus, "Ancient Goblin. Runes were derived from Goblin, so I can see how one can be confused."

"You can translate it?" Severus said, staring at her.

"Fortunately Gringotts did train us quite well in Goblin lest we accidentally stumble upon some ancient stashes whose whereabouts were lost during one of the purges," she said. "Loosely translated:"

_Past, present and future_

_Circle that connects _

_With no end_

_Invoke these memories_

_So that we can relive_

_The cherished past_

_Now, in this time_

_Or in the future next time_

"Now, I'd suggest that we perform the incantation in actual Goblin, as doing translated spells can have rather unexpected results. You do know how to pronounce Goblin, do you not?" Ruedella asked. Seeing Severus' expression, she added, "Of course you do."

She quickly translated the Runes into more contemporary Goblin and handed Severus a copy. They both held their wands to the side of the bowl and repeated the incantation, a rough and guttural series of near grunts and throaty bellows. When they were through, the Pensieve emitted a high-pitched screech and the room was filled with a blinding green light. When the light subsided Ruedella gasped.

"It's the party," she whispered. She looked around the room and down to her silk green dress robe. She looked to Severus who was wearing a nice, but obviously second hand (as it was years out of date) dress robe with a high black collar. She made a double take at his face – he looked like he was only twenty, not thirty-nine (although she thought he normally looked much older than his current age). She turned and looked into the enchanted mirror above the fireplace and gasped. She too, was much younger and the few lines and wrinkles she accumulated were all gone. "What did you do?"

"You have never entered a Pensieve?" he asked. When she shook her head 'no' he added. "It is a variation. Instead of being a neutral, unseen third party observer, we are now part of the scene – at least until I end the spell. As you can see, it is quite powerful, as it has altered the very dimensions of my rooms to mimic that of your Uncle's estate." He leaned forward his lips passing by her cheek as he whispered in her ear. "You do remember what happened?"

"My brother burned your buttocks with a flame curse…" Ruedella said with a giggle. Her laugh was a bit too loud and a few nearby turned and looked quickly before returning to their conversations. Across the room Rodolphus was watching her intently. Bellatrix was at his side, looking rather amused and she tugged on Rodolphus' arm as she gave Ruedella a sly wink.

"Well, perhaps we can alter this memory for the better. Since we know their moves, we can play some games…" Severus said the last slyly as he ran his finger down her face. "Now do keep some wits about you, as we change the memory, new events can take place."

"You are certainly playing it more dangerously," Ruedella said as she scooted closer and then took an offered champagne glass from a passing elf. She looked around the room a bit, "I think at this point we were thinking of strategic ways of getting closer to the doors to the gardens…"

"SEVERUS!" a feigned cheerful voice cut the witch off. "So glad you could make it. Is your mother here?"

"She had other commitments, Lucius," Severus said, taking his finger off Ruedella's cheek. "Ah, Narcissa," he said nodding at the blonde who was hooked onto Malfoy's arm. "Congratulations on your wedding," he added politely. Narcissa simply rolled her eyes and walked away.

"Did you wise up and finally remove her tongue Lucius?" Ruedella asked.

"Oh, her aunt and she were talking. Venefica comes up with the most interesting… stories," Lucius said snidely as he looked Severus up and down.

"Do me the favor and get to the point, Lucius," Severus said quickly. "Otherwise your dear cousin and I were engaged in the most interesting conversation… seems she has an interest in Thermageunetic potions…"

Before Lucius could say anything an ancient, withered old wizard plodded up to them. He was a good foot shorter than either Lucius or Severus, but given his bent back, the wizard was probably quite tall when he was younger. He tapped his walking stick against Severus' leg. "I do say Nefarius, you are looking well. I was just talking to your boy over there… err… Regulus… yes. Just graduated from Hogwarts. You must be proud."

"Professor Sinistra," Lucius cleared his throat, "There is some mistake." He said the last with an amused sneer. "This is Severus Snape not Nefarius Black. Although the resemblance is quite… uncanny. However, this wizard graduated from Hogwarts… what was it, Severus, now two years?" He raised his eyebrow and looked over to his wife who was now across the room talking to another group of people. He then scanned over to Venefica Black who was staring at Severus like poison.

"I never had Nefarius as a student, although his father and grandfather were quite the handfuls," the ancient wizard chuckled. "Snape you say? Ah, yes, had a number of them through when I was head of Slytherin House. Good job, being head of House. Pay isn't poor and it is a great way to make connections. One would think that it is a fast track to Headmaster, but the Board of Governors always likes the Ravenclaw and Gryffindors – except for Phineas Nigelus – he got his job the old fashioned way – blackmail, if you'll excuse the pun. Most figure Hufflepuff head of Houses are too malleable and the Slytherin – well they're afraid that we'll run off or kill all those Half breeds and Mudbloods." He shook his head, "Now boy, what were you good in? Dark Arts, Potions or Herbology? Snapes generally missed the boat on Charms and Transfiguration talent. Silineas Snape, probably your grandfather several times over, nearly blew up a Gryffindor classmate – one of the Dumbledore boys, if I recall correctly; the boy ended up with a scar by his knee that looked like a map." He looked at Severus, "Now boy, what are you good in?"

"I excel at Potions and have a solid skill in Herbology – tutored extensively by my mother. I also dabble in the Dark Arts," Severus replied as he eyed up the garden doors.

"Dabbled?" Lucius scoffed. "On your first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts class your first year you embedded Professor Karkaroff into the wall. None of us Prefects could figure out what you did and Dumbledore himself had to undo your spell."

"Plus your 'special classes'," another voice, belonging to Evan Rosier chimed in.

"He received the highest N.E.W.T. score in Potions in well over one hundred years," Ruedella added, playing along.

"Really?" Sinistra nodded his head. "My great-great-great-great… probably another great or two in there… granddaughter took a position at Hogwarts. Astronomy, you know… she could never get her heads out of the skies. You know Aurora, about your age, I'd say…" Severus nodded and the man continued. "The current Potions Master is looking to retire in a year or two… Now Karkaroff is a fairly young man, so there probably won't be room for a new Slytherin Head of House for a few decades… could be a good opportunity although Dumbledore is a bit of a crackpot. Was an odd boy, but one could do worse I suppose."

"Well, Severus is probably just happy working in the garden with his Mummy and some part-time work in his cousin's shop," Lucius said snidely.

"For now that works," Severus said, not taking the bait. "Professor, it has been a pleasure." He looked at Ruedella. "Let me freshen up your drink and perhaps you can show me around?" He took the glass she was holding and nodded at Lucius. Ruedella excused herself as well, presumably heading for the witch's loo.

[SECTION]

Ruedella sat in the cool garden on a lone marble bench. She incanted a quick warming charm and then looked up at the sky. The moon was waning, but still bright in the sky and it obscured most of the stars. Mars was ascending and was quite bright in the sky – an omen she had learned that troubling times were ahead. She turned on the bench and looked through the large glass doors. Evan Rosier, Barty Couch, Regulus Black, her brothers… just a few people that she knew that would be dead or incarcerated within the next few years. She had to remember that she was reliving a memory and that she was not transported into the past. And, as much as this all felt real, to go in and warn them of events to come would be incredibly unwise and downright foolish.

"Your champagne, miss," a deep voice caught her attention. She stood and took the glass taking a few quick gulps. She giggled as Severus' hand snaked around her waist and pulled her close. "Time for the bushes," he said into her ear and then nearly dragged her to an entrance.

Her Uncle's estate consisted of a main central building with two smaller wings that flanked the north and south, making a large 'C' shaped complex. In the center was a large garden with carefully sculpted hedges and a maze of rose bushes. Severus had her by the hand and they walked briskly into the hedges as he released a charm to part the hedges so they could pass safely yet not leave a very noticeable trail behind him.

Once they reached a 'safe' area, they stopped. Ruedella pressed her body against his and put her arms around his neck. They stared at each other for a long while before Severus put his hands around her waist and pulled her in a deep kiss, his hands roaming her back and buttocks. Ruedella began to unbutton his collar and she caressed her fingers on his bare skin, pulling his head down so she could nibble on his ear.

"I feel like I'm eighteen again. I really do," she said with a sigh as he worked on kissing her neck.

"You are," he said as his one hand cupped her breast. "Temporarily, of course." Hearing her moan, he asked, "Are you a screamer too?"

Before she could answer, a bright flash passed just a few feet from then, startling Ruedella and causing her to squeak. She looked at Severus. "They're early."

"No doubt that our earlier escapades brought some attention. We were not exactly 'just talking,'" Severus replied as he took out his wand.

"Snape! SNAPE!" Rodolphus' voice bellowed, slurred a bit from too much alcohol. "If you have laid one hand on my sister, I will personally castrate you and feed your testicles to my krup!"

"Rodolphus!" They could hear Bellatrix's voice. "They're just having a little fun. Now how many times have we…"

"Will you come out my dear before your idiot brother kills my prized roses!" Lucifer's voice called through the bushes. He was on the opposite side. "Lucius, will you disarm him!"

"You disarm him, it's your roses," Lucius said. From the slur in his voice, he too had imbibed a bit too much.

"Afraid are you? Coward!" Rodolphus yelled across the courtyard. "Come here Lucius and I'll show you the meaning of pain!" A second later, they saw a bright blue light off towards Rodolphus' voice and they heard Bellatrix scream.

"Uncle has the wards down," Ruedella noted. "Lucius must have apparted over there and took Rodolphus by surprise."

"Then let's take advantage of their distraction," Severus concluded. "You lead," he said pulling her close.

They appeared instantly in a deserted, darkened hallway. The few portraits were all asleep and Ruedella held her finger to her lips and grabbed his hand, leading him a few doors down. She took out her wand and quietly unlocked the door, ushering him inside before closing and locking it behind her. With another quick flick, she lit the few candles that remained in the room.

"Now I don't know how this memory spell works, but I certainly hope that there is a real limit – that we're still somewhere in your rooms and not in the Slytherin common room, for example." Ruedella motioned toward the bed. "But, since we're having so much fun…"

"Apparating within Hogwarts grounds is only limited to the rooms – as little use that is – unless you're a House Elf," Severus said as he picked up Ruedella with a quick motion. "I doubt that this bed is a study table." He laid her on the bed and then positioned himself on top of her. "Too comfortable for a study table…" he said before he began kissing her.

They resumed their passion and before long their robes lay in a rumpled pile on the footboard. After a few attempts, Severus liberated Ruedella's bra and held it up like a trophy. "I assume, Ruedella, that we did not apparte to the normal chambers you kept at your Uncle's estate – it would be the first place they will look."

"After piecing back together Rodolphus and Lucius, that is," Ruedella said. "I'd imagine that Bellatrix threw a few curses on Lucius for attacking her little Dolphy…" She hooked her fingers on his underwear and began to move him down, giggling as Severus arched his eyebrows in feign surprise. "However, you might want to ward the doors… unless you want them to barge in, see us and then end the spell…"

Severus considered it for a few moments and then got off the bed. With a quick movement he took off his underwear and threw them at her, hitting her squarely in the face. "I'll put up the wards," he said. With a flourish of his fingers he summoned his wand, but it only rolled out a few inches from under the pillow. He tried it again, but with no success.

"Is throwing your underwear part of the spell?" Ruedella asked, holding the black underwear between two fingers. "I do hope that the original color was…"

"Will you shut up!" Severus roared. He looked at Ruedella who replied by sticking out her tongue. "Start a fire," he commanded, "but without your wand…"

Ruedella shook her head and looked at the fireplace, she quickly snapped her fingers, but nothing happened. She tried again, but only got a small spark that faded quickly. She looked over to Severus, who had a perplexed expression on his face. "Given this, I'll forgive your rudeness," she said. "Could it be the potion?"

Severus nodded and then retrieved his wand from Ruedella, who had grabbed it for him. He made a few quick incantations and a series of lights bathed the door. He was about to do a last incantation when he turned and looked at Ruedella. "I can't remember it…"

"What?" she said, patting the bed for him to return.

"It was a spell I was taught long ago. The Dark Lord taught me, actually, right before the Potter boy…" Severus pinched his nose. "You are right. It is the potion. Not only did we take the form of our former selves of eighteen or so years earlier, but our magical abilities are as well. Simple wandless magic – starting a fire or retrieving a small object – takes practice. And, from our perspective right now, we don't have the practice."

"Well, I hope you know how to end the spell…" Ruedella inquired.

"Yes, I do… when we're ready," Severus said and then pounced on the bed, trapping her underneath.

Ruedella caressed his back and chest and sighed, "Too many years wasted." She added, "had things ended differently last time, if we had ended up in bed in a guest room…"

"Instead of me trying to save face with my colleagues by making unfortunate comments about your anatomy," Severus interrupted. "Which, I may add, that your brassieres must be entirely too binding…" He ended by giving her a kiss on her breast.

Ruedella smiled, "I wonder how the later years would have turned out?"

"My guess is that if we were not caught that I would have asked permission to begin courting you – which I would have been rejected outright until a few deeds I performed for the Dark Lord gave me some leverage – in time we probably would have married and perhaps have our own in his or her fourth or fifth year by now," Severus said thoughtfully. "If we were caught, well… then… we shall see tonight…" He smirked at his comment and Ruedella's horrified expression.

"CCAARRACCKKK!" The door shattered with a loud sound and blinding purple light. The two lovers quickly rolled out of the bed to the far side, using the furniture as cover. Ruedella ducked as Severus quickly felt under the pillows for their wands. He got on his knees and held his wand out, preparing to defend them.

Four figures strode into room, two with noticeable limps. The first man was Ruedella's uncle, Lucifer. Who surveyed the room and picked up Severus' black underwear with his walking cane, holding it up.

"SNAPE YOU!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SISTER! I'LL…" Rodolphus lurched forward with his wand out and was about to send a spell. With a smooth, practiced move, Lucifer swung his stick around and with a huge 'CRACK' struck Rodolphus squarely between the eyes.

"He's shagging your sister like a Knockturn Alley whore, Rodolphus," Lucius said, nearly laughing. Another 'CRACK' rang through the room and Lucius fell to his knees, stunned.

"She is family and one does not refer to family in that manner," Lucifer said. "Would you care to make a comment, Rabastan?"

"No sir," Rabastan replied as he stood in the doorway. Behind him Bellatrix was jumping up and down trying to see over the wizards and into the room.

"Kindly duck, will you Rabastan?" Lucifer asked. Rabastan ducked and the wizard, probably not more in his late fourties, turned quickly on heel and pulled his wand from his walking stick, blinding Bellatrix with a curse. Turning back, he looked towards the bed. "Only temporary," he said aloofly. "Now would you two kindly stand?" Seeing them hesitate, he added, "Severus, at least hand her a pillow to cover herself. As for you, you don't have anything that we haven't seen…"

Ruedella looked at Severus, motioning with a slashing motion at her throat for him to end the spell.

"I don't intend to kill him," Lucifer said. "Boy, show me your left forearm."

Severus turned his arm showing his mark as he slowly rose. Ruedella covered herself with the pillow and stood up. It was both thrilling and embarrassing at the same time. She almost forgot that she was in a memory.

"So you are one of us. Not surprising as Snape used to be a respected and revered name. Used to be…" Lucifer said smoothly. "Aside from some drunken roll in the hay, what are your intentions towards my niece? Do keep in mind, boy, that if her father were still alive you would have been on your way to St. Mungo's – or the morgue – by now. But I have a far more liberal mind than Lestrange… So, I suppose I ask, how do you propose to take care of her at a level befitting her bloodline…"

Severus looked at Ruedella and then at her Uncle. "My plans? Nothing ornate. Simply arrange for the deaths of my brothers – you do know that my sire was Nefarius Black, did you not?" Lucifer quickly blanketed a stunned expression and panned over to Lucius who nodded to the affirmative. Severus continued, "Once that is done, I can inherit the Black Estate. Of course, Venefica has a home for as long as she is living…" He sneered, "As I owe her no small favor in regards to the early demise of my father."

And, upon gleening the satisfaction of seeing their stunned faces, Severus slashed his wand towards the ceiling, ending the spell. The room swirled and began to darken and soon the couple found themselves standing next to Severus' bed.

Ruedella tossed the pillow she was holding over herself back on the bed. She looked at Severus and gasped, "The… you're…"

"I would imagine that the youth potion might take a little longer to wear off," Severus said as he took her wand and his under one of the pillows. He scooped her up and laid her on the bed. "Now," he said, "where were we?"

Narcissa Malfoy walked the empty halls of her mansion, unable to sleep. She had hoped that Lucius would visit, but he failed to even owl. As she passed the main hall, she noticed an odd glow on the family tapestry. Curious, she walked over and inspected it – her loneliness turning into rage as she witnessed a particular set of silver threads transform into gold.

[SECTION]

Ruedella woke slightly and stretched in bed. She looked to her left and saw the top of Severus' head on the pillow, his raven black head bobbing slightly with each breath. Deciding she needed to go to the loo, she slipped out of the bed, surprised on how high up it was. Next to the bed were a pair of slippers and a night robe, placed, apparently by a few brave House Elves who were assigned to attend to Severus' quarters.

"They don't have a sense of size," she noted to herself as she put on the garment. Both where a bit big, but would do, and she made her way into the bathroom. Taking her wand out of her pocket, she did a quick time-telling charm, frustrated that it took three tries to perform one. It was only 5 am – several hours before breakfast and the Quidditch match that would be going on later that day. "Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff," Ruedella noted to herself. As usual, she and Regulus would tease Barty about how Ravenclaw would lose to a bunch of poofsters. How Thomas Davies will have his broom handed to him by Amos Diggory and… She shook her head and then turned, popping her head through the bathroom door and back into the bedroom where Severus was sleeping. "Silly, silly," she said, playfully patting herself on the head. "That was so long ago…"

She finally entered the bathroom and walked past the sink over which a large enchanted mirror hung. Suddenly a shadowy face appeared in the mirror, its eyes following her with great interest.

"Mind?" She said, "Can't a witch go to the loo…"

"I think," the mirror said with careful measure of its voice, "that Professor Snape's self-imposed loneliness has gone too far. Don't worry dear, just tell Dumbledore and you won't be held…"

"Snivellus is my husband," Ruedella said, quickly holding her hands over her mouth. "Err… Severus…"

"Husband! Oh dear!" the mirror gasped. "He's so much older…"

"He is only two years older!" Ruedella said. "For your information my Grandfather Malfoy is over fifty years older than my grandmother."

"Oh," the mirror said simply. "When you are finished, you might want to…" It heard Ruedella stifle a scream. "Well, you are going to the loo… so you'd probably figure out…"

Ruedella jumped over to the mirror. "Why is it…"

"So high?" the mirror answered. "Same reason why, I would suppose, that would explain your discovery while relieving yourself."

Ruedella opened her night robe and looked down again. Tears welled up in her eyes and she ran into the bedroom. Pulling out her wand, she tried to hex Severus while he slept, but the spell misfired – but what she managed to accomplish was enough though to wake him. As he began to turn in the bed, reaching under the pillow for his own wand, she screamed, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

[END OF CHAPTER]

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	21. Aftereffects of a Misspent Youth

**Author's Notes:**

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please accept my apologies for my apparent mental block regarding Barty Crouch's name. I keep on writing 'Couch' and I don't know why. I'll really try harder to catch those. Again, thanks for your patience.

**Chapter 21: Aftereffects of a Misspent Youth**

Severus bolted up in bed, grabbed his wand and pointed it at the offending noise. He stopped and tiled his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. Half asleep he wondered how one of his students could have made it into his room, but a split second later he recognized the girl.

"Ohhh… my… Severus," the girl said, as she absently pulled back a few wayward bushy strands of mousy-brown hair out of her eyes. "You… too…"

"What do you mea…" he began, but quickly pulled his hand to his mouth. His smooth, intimidating baritone was replaced by a higher pitched voice with an occasional crack – evidence that his hormones were busy in thickening his vocal chords. He hadn't talked that way since his third year. "Nox," he said, holding up his wand, cringing at his voice. Slowly he pulled the blankets away from him, looked down, and flinched.

"No grass on the Quidditch pitch?"

"More than you have, I'd wager," he said curtly. His eyes darted around the room, his head and neck jerked as he thought.

"Snivellus Spider is thinking again," Ruedella giggled. She too stopped regarding hearing her own voice, although the change was nowhere near as dramatic as Severus'.

"Potter!" he bellowed. He then looked directly at Ruedella. "Never," he cautioned, "call me that again or you will be permanently reliving your childhood."

"It wasn't so bad," she replied.

"Your brothers will not be around to bail you out," he said flatly. "Protect you when you do something stupid – and neither will I."

"But our contract is now bound," she said. "Now what would the good people say about a Professor having a child bride." She leaned over the bed, "They might say that you were exorcising repressed desires…"

"I am neither a pervert or a pedophile!" he yelled. "And you very well know it. Now we need to focus…"

Ruedella nodded agreeably and sat on the edge of the bed. "You were saying about Potter – I do hope this isn't one of your imagined transgressions. Like how you claimed he freed Sirius Black…"

"He did free Sirius Black!" Severus snarled. "Not only did the boy delay my long laid out plans, but he cost me an Order of Merlin to boot!" He continued as the young Ruedella rolled her eyes patronizingly, "I KNOW he was behind it! As if he were in two places at once… altered time…" He grabbed his night robe off of a nearby hook at put it on, snarling as he noticed it was significantly too big. "That is it… time… he must have switched…"

"Will you please focus on getting us back to normal!" Ruedella whined and pouted.

"I am… Potter and Weasley were in my office about a month ago when I was preparing the potion. I left, told them to not touch… Of course." He paused for a second. "Potter and Black could never listen to directions. Rule breakers they were…"

"You said Potter was with Weasley," Ruedella corrected. She then added, "I'm hungry. Breakfast won't be for awhile." She patted her robe. "My bezoar! Where can I get another bezoar!" She began to cry and the various objects in the room began to shake.

"You can get a bezoar from a goat, you ninny," Severus said annoyed. Seeing her cry even harder, he went over to her side. "Ok, I won't touch your drink… but make sure Rosier doesn't steal Quirrell's, okay?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "We're reverting to when we were young. About the age of thirteen for me and eleven or so for you. We must remember who we are. How old we are." He grabbed Ruedella by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "You are Ruedella Lestrange-Snape, my wife and Professor of Ancient Runes. You are thirty-six years old."

"Thirty-seven," she added. "You forgot my birthday."

"You forgot mine as well," Severus spat back.

"I don't believe we were talking on Halloween," Ruedella replied truthfully. "Besides, it must be horrible to have a birthday on Halloween. Your parents took the celebration of the Imbolc way too literally." She looked him up and down, "Although you do make a very typical Scorpio."

"Oh will you stop your blabbering!" Severus snarled. "We must get dressed and get to my office! I can then find the potion instructions, deduct what happened, and then research a cure!" He looked at her. "Chances are that the effects are temporary, but I have no idea the time frame."

"Why don't we ask Dumble…?"

"No!" Snape countered, interrupting her. "Not after my failed transfiguration attempt. The wizard all but humiliated me." He pointed his finger, which was almost comically long compared to the rest of his body, into her shoulder. "It was all your fault."

"Whatever," Ruedella huffed as she jerked away. She went around the bed and began picking up their clothes laying them out on the unmade sheets and blankets. "Obviously we will have to resize them…" She then looked at them for a moment, looked at Severus, and then back at the clothes. "You do realize that the students do not wear clothes like these. Even many of the Purebloods now wear Muggle-like clothes until they become full-fledged wizards…"

Severus sulked for a second and then walked over to his wardrobe. He dug through a few bottom drawers until he pulled out a stack of clothes and brought them over. "From my seventh year."

"Well, assuming that either of us can successfully resize them," Ruedella said, "they are out of style." She looked at Severus and said under her breath, "Even when you were a student…"

"Some of us didn't have the privilege of getting brand new robes every time we grew a half inch!" Severus barked. "My mother was treading on dangerous ground even purchasing second-hand robes!"

"Okay, sorry," Ruedella said. She cleared her throat, "Is that why you never made any comments about the Weasely children? I mean…" She chose her words carefully; "You are always making comments about someone, especially if misfortune befalls them. But I have never heard a word about their second-hand books or patched up robes… even Lupin's. Oh, you'll comment about him being a werewolf…" She stopped suddenly, purposely changing the subject as Severus' lip began to twitch uncontrollably. "Maybe we should go to the laundry. If we hurry, the laundry elves might still be asleep – it's only the kitchen ones that are awake early to prepare breakfast."

SECTION

The two crept through the dimly lit hallways keeping to the shadows. To an outside observer, they looked simply like two students. The first was a young first year girl with a stringy gait, large bushy hair, oversized front teeth and wearing a night robe which had been magically shortened (quite unevenly) at the arms and the legs and was tied tightly around the waist with an added pin at the top to help keep it closed. The second was a boy just slightly taller than girl with long, untidy black hair (which was far longer than Hogwart's regulation length), and a better sized night robe, although a few of the edges showed noticeable singe marks and one, in particular, left a small trail of smoke as he walked.

As they approached a large pillar that flanked the final corridor that led to the laundry, Severus grabbed Ruedella by the shoulder. As she was about to protest, he put his hand on her mouth and dragged her into dark shadows. "Filch comes by at this time," he whispered. "Wait…"

They held their breath and dared not move a muscle as the squib and his loyal companion, Mrs. Norris, walked down the hall. The cat stopped and mewed in their general direction. The Squib bent down and patted the cat, sneering as he squinted into the darkness. "Got something there, Mrs. Norris? Students out of bed? Bet that Potter…" he began to cackle. "Potter get out here… I always knew it was you! Blasted boy, arrogant git like your father…"

Severus slowly pulled out his wand and motioned for Ruedella to slowly step behind him. "_Confuto caecus_," he said and a purplish light sprang forth and enveloped both Filch and Mrs. Norris. "That should do for now," Severus said, grabbing Ruedella by the hand and pulling her forward. "Petrified, but unaware of their surroundings. When it wears off, they'll continue just as they were unaware that any time has passed."

"You… you… hexed them!" Ruedella squealed and was rewarded with a hand over her mouth to quiet her.

"Cursed," Severus corrected with a whisper. "But a minor curse…"

The two walked quickly, but silently under the still sleeping portraits until they reached the large oak and metal door that led to the laundry. Taking the lead, Severus opened it and walked inside. The room was large with a few enormous windows on the far side which were open a bit to allow cool air to enter. It was still quite dark outside, as the winter Scottish countryside would not see sunrise for a few more hours, but a handful of elves were starting to wake and prepare for the day. Severus grabbed Ruedella's arm and led her to a side room. In it were shelves and racks of robes of various sizes and adorned with house emblems.

"These are extra uniforms," Severus commented as he rummaged through a rack of boy's robes. "Students inevitably outgrow, lose, tear or otherwise ruin their own. Until their parents can send replacements, they can borrow from these."

Ruedella nodded and headed to the other side of the room where the girl's clothes were stored. To the side she spotted a tiny bed with a snoring female elf surrounded by a pile of empty butterbeer bottles. Although she thought the scene odd, she thought nothing more of it and began to help herself to some appropriately sized clothes.

"May Dobby be of assistance?" a squeaky voice came from behind her, causing her to scream. Instantly, the clothes next to her parted as Severus burst through the racks, wand in hand. The elf tilted his head and looked at the two, and then over to the female elf, who had begun to stir because of the noise. "Does Dobby know you? Dobby thinks you are, young miss, quite familiar."

"Err," Ruedella stuttered. "Probably have seen me around. Err… my friend and I were victims of a bit of a prank and need some clothes until we can locate ours." She looked at Severus, who had managed to find a decently sized robe and accessories with the appropriate Slytherin adornments. "Slytherin House," she said.

"Ah, of course," Dobby said dismissively. "Slytherins always wasting elves time. Dobby knows Slytherins too well. Dobby's former master's family was all Slytherin." He eyed her up and pulled a few items off the rack and handed them to her. "Dobby almost thought you were an associate of Dobby's former master. But perhaps Dobby is thinking of your mother…"

Ruedella simply nodded. The elf turned to attend to its companion. As she was about to take off her robe, the elf turned quickly, snapped his fingers, and plowed Severus into a nearby wall.

"Now, now, young wizard," the elf said in a corrective tone. "One must give the witch some privacy. Wait by the door." Dobby pointed a long finger to the other side of the room.

Ruedella began to snigger as Severus sulked off, not willing to risk getting into a confrontation with an adult House Elf. As she finished dressing, she heard a squeal behind her and she turned on heel. The female House Elf was now awake, but apparently not of full senses, as she was lunging towards Ruedella, her tiny arms flailing and her oversized eyes rolling crazily in their sockets. The other elf, fortunately, grabbed her and the female elf ended up simply laying on the ground, beating the floor with her hands and feet as Dobby sat on her.

"What is going on!" Severus barked as he ran back.

"Wicked girl!" the female elf bellowed. "Winky knows this girl. Lestrange girl. Friend of Winky's Barty…" The elf began to sob at the wizard's name. "Beloved Barty. Clever boy, smart boy… wicked girl got Barty in trouble. Barty knows this, but cannot prove it. Wicked girl… Barty had to drop classes and Barty could only earn 12 OWLS instead of 14. Wicked girl…"

Dobby waved his hand at the two young wizards dismissing them. "Dobby does apologize, but Winky is not quite herself." He looked down at Winky. "Barty graduated long ago. The Lestrange girl you speak is long gone as well… no…" His ears perked up. "Lestrange is a professor here. This witch is certainly not the one whom Winky thinks." He eyed up the girl. "Although… perhaps Winky is confused like Dobby was confused…"

"I look a lot like some people," Ruedella said stupidly. She turned to Severus who simply rolled his eyes.

"Young sir," Dobby added. "Your hair is not regulation length…"

"It does not matter," Severus snapped back. "If I cut it, it will grow back by the next morning, if not sooner."

"Dobby understands," the elf nodded. "Professor Snape provides boys with some tonic to assist. Dobby advises that young wizard sees to it lest young wizard intends to lose points for Slytherin." The elf mumbled something else to himself that neither could hear.

"Wicked girl…" Winky began again. But before she could finish her rant, both young wizards had fled the room.

SECTION

They crept past Filch and Mrs. Norris, moving silently and carefully as Severus calculated that the spell would wear off soon. Taking a few hidden passages and shortcuts that Ruedella never knew existed; they soon found themselves next to the entryway to the Slytherin Common room.

"We need to blend in," Severus commented. "We cannot walk the halls now, otherwise we will be discovered. We have to wait until it is closer to breakfast. Then we can do as we see fit."

Ruedella looked at Severus. "The elf is right," she said as she took a lock of Severus' hair in between her fingers. "If we are not trying to attract attention to ourselves…"

Severus turned to her. "We will find some scissors in the common room and attend to that… later…"

"Oh, I can shorten it pretty easily," Ruedella said as she pulled out her wand. "Hold still…"

"I hardly think so," Severus jerked away. "Seeing how you did such a fine job on your night robes."

"Oh really, here…" she waved her wand and said a quick incantation. Dark black hair flew around in a puff of white smoke, making both wizards choke and cough.

"What have you…" Severus said, enraged as he held clumps of his hair in his hands.

As the smoke cleared Ruedella studied her work. "The execution of the charm was a little sloppy, but the results are satisfactory. A little water…"

"What in Merlin name is that smell?" Severus sniffed the air. "Burning… Owww!!" He patted the back of his head a few times. "You caught me on fire!"

"You were singed, not on fire," Ruedella corrected. She conjured up some water and a cloth and dabbed it on his head. "That should do it."

"That spell," Severus said, pointing to the water and the cloth. "Perhaps this is reversing," he said with a slight air of hope.

"Mother taught me some basic conjuring when I was still on a training wand," Ruedella said with a sigh. "Things that one would need in an emergency." She nodded to the door. "I am afraid that I do not have the privilege of knowing the password."

"Pureblood," Severus said to the stone. A second later the wall began to rearrange forming a suitable entryway.

"Pureblood?" Ruedella scoffed. "Might want to use that less frequently than every other week…"

"We can't," Severus said tightly. "Otherwise some, including Crabbe and Goyle, would be sleeping in the dungeon corridors."

They walked into the large, but low ceiling common room. The room was still quite dark, but the lanterns were slowly starting to brighten, a sign that the new day was about to begin.

"To the books and study tables," Severus said. "We can sit there while the others start milling down."

"What if…" Ruedella shook her head. "I mean, certainly, some would recognize their own classmates."

"Just keep your head low and do not make eye contact. Everyone will assume that we belong in some other year class than their own. Just enough time to get out and do what we need to without being caught by Filch."

"You could always…" Ruedella flicked her wrists.

"For a squib I am fond of the man," Severus said. "Not a bright man, but he has his own uses… I would rather not issue too many spells and bring attention."

Ruedella nodded in agreement and they walked quietly to the back of the common room. They noticed some sound and movement on one of the couches. Stopping, they looked and saw a large mound covered with a green blanket with strange moaning and groaning sounds emitting from underneath.

She was about to giggle, but Severus caught her and pulled her behind a couch. Crouching, they sat there quietly as Severus cautiously peered over the side to evaluate the situation. Taking out his wand, he absently tapped his chin for a few seconds before he noticed the sleeping portrait of Elric the Eager. Flipping his wand, he sent a quick burst of light at the portrait, causing it to awaken.

"WHAT! WHO! I'LL DISEMBOWL!" the portrait howled, waking the other portraits. The startled occupants under the blanket, bolted up and fell onto the floor in a tangle of arms, legs and unclothed torsos. The boy quickly got to his feet and took the blanket, wrapping it around him as he ran down the hall towards the boy's dorm.

The girl shrieked and grabbed two pillows, trying to cover herself. "Draco! You cad!" she cried out as she stumbled around, grabbing her clothes off the floor before rushing towards the girl's dorm.

"Hmm," Severus said as he flung himself over the back of the couch and surveyed his work. "Seems that young Malfoy finally managed to catch the Snitch."

"Different girl," Ruedella noted as she stood up. "Doesn't he go with that Parkinson girl?" She shook her head, "Started the habit of mistresses at a young age, I see."

"You should ask Rodolphus about the photos he snagged of Lucius and some Ravenclaw Half-blood." Severus turned slightly, "Obtained well after he was courting Narcissa."

"Something like that could be handy," Ruedella considered. "Perhaps I should ask him if I may hold onto it for safekeeping." She then nodded towards the dorms. "I don't believe sexual exploits are within Hogwarts code…"

"Well, what would you have me do about it now?" Severus replied as he helped Ruedella up and they made their way over to the study tables and bookshelves. Once situated, he summoned over a few books, frustrated that he had to use his wand for even the most basic levitation. Thumping one in particular, he smiled contently. "Many fond memories with this. I must have read it a dozen times." He looked at Ruedella who had her arms folded. "Now WHAT!?"

"Care to tell me of your plan? Or are you just making this up as we go along? We DO have a plan, don't WE?" she sniveled.

"But of course…" Severus smirked. "I always do."

SECTION

"Professor Snape gave us the note this morning," Severus said smoothly as he handed the note to Madame Pince.

The stern librarian took the note and then looked at the two, one at a time in turn. "First, I am not pleased that he is allowing someone so young in the Restricted Section. Second, the handwriting…" She waved her wand over the parchment. Frowning, she tried it again.

"He did not look well," Ruedella piped up. "Perhaps working too much. Tired perhaps?"

"Well, it is his signature," Madame Pince noted. "Although…" She looked at the note and then at Severus. "Marvolo Borgin? Oh, yes," she shook her head. "Professor Snape's grandmother was a Borgin, I believe. Must explain the resemblance. Uncanny."

"I told you Marvolo that you might be Professor Snape's long lost love child!" Ruedella quipped and then held back a giggle as Severus' obsidian black eyes bore into her. Seeing Madame Pince visibly shudder, she added, "Just a joke."

"I should deduct points just for the very thought, not to mention disrespect," Madame Pince said tiredly. "However, just go and make sure you have time for breakfast. I do assume that Professor Snape told you how to disarm some of the books? Mr. Filch is tired of cleaning up the blood."

"I am quite adept, ma'am," Severus said with an air of respect. And with that he and Ruedella scurried to the Restricted Section.

Once they were past the doors, they found an isolated table away from prying eyes or ears.

"I thought we had to go to your offices first?" Ruedella asked.

Severus walked over to the books and looked over them. Taking one that had a heavy black chain, he recited a long incantation and then opened it. The book shook a little, but otherwise appeared to be harmless. Taking a nearby quill and some extra parchments, he quickly began taking notes. After a few minutes he looked up to Ruedella.

"We cannot enter my storage area without taking down the wards," he finally replied. "Unfortunately, most of the wards are more advanced and well…"

"You have no idea how to get through them without killing us, do you?" Ruedella sighed as he put her head in her hands.

"I can recall what I did – somewhat. I simply need a brief refresher."

"Why don't you goad Potter into breaking in," Ruedella taunted.

"Are you saying that he is a more capable wizard that I?" Severus slammed the book and stalked over to their table, placing his palms face down and leaning towards her.

"Given the current situation, yes…" Ruedella said. Using her wand she summoned over his notes and combined them. "Anything else?"

"Quit rushing me!" Severus said tersely and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is very complicated and you are not helping. I doubt that you could have even… before…"

"You're being rather pig-headed," Ruedella said, holding her finger up to her nose and pushing it back. "Look at me, I'm pig-headed Snivelus and I'm a big know it all. Rabastan said that if you kept your hand up in the air anymore in class, owls would start nesting on it."

Severus' eyes narrowed and he quickly pulled out his wand. A light blue light emitted from his wand and encased her head. "Consider yourself fortunate that I didn't do you entire head!"

Ruedella squealed and touched her nose. "You DIDN'T!" She grabbed her wand and threw and light green light into Severus' stomach. He lurched. "Eat slugs!" she said with a wide satisfied smile under her pig-nose.

"What are you doing!" a voice called out behind Severus. He turned and Ruedella looked over as Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley walked over. "Are you not a little young to be in here… and…"

Severus looked at them, green in the face. "We had a note…" he began to explain and then threw up a giant slug onto Weasley's shoe.

"The Restricted Section is a privilege," Granger began, "and note or no note, you are expected to behave appropriately. Now five points from Slytherin for your little hexes."

"A mutilation is considered to be a curse, not a hex," Severus said and then burped up another slug.

"Very well then," Granger said, "then make it ten points." She met eyes with Severus as he glared at her. "Dare me to make it fifteen." Seeing him nod, she pulled out her wand and fixed Ruedella's nose. "As for you, you need to go to Madame Pomfrey's for some anti-slug tonic."

"Or wait it out," Weasley said sheepishly. "And find a bucket or something," he added as he pointed to the pile of slugs slithering on the floor. "Filch will have kittens if he sees this and he'll personally drag your bottoms to Snape. So, I'd be sure to clean this up before you leave."

"_Evanesco_," Ruedella said lazily as she pointed her wand at the mess. "Erm… what's the charm for conjuring up a bucket?"

"You missed one," Severus said in between burps and issued a flame from his wand catching the slug on fire. With another wave of his wand he conjured up a bucket and deposited another slug into it.

"Do you mind not catching the library on fire?" Weasley said looking at the boy horrified. "What is your name anyhow?"

"Marvolo… urp…" Severus said as he spat out another slug, "Borgin…" He turned and looked on as Ruedella collected the notes and put away the book he was reading.

"Is this clean enough?" Ruedella asked Granger who then nodded her approval. "Let's go and get you fixed up," she said as she pulled on Severus' arm.

"I just need some tincture of slug and extract of seaweed diluted in distilled water," Severus said. "Works better than the tonic." He looked at Ruedella and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we should go to the office now…"

"I never heard about tincture of slug…" Hermione began.

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you don't know everything about potions?" Severus sneered in between burping up more slugs. "Might want to listen and learn you silly Mu--…"

"Well, we better go," Ruedella said as she moved her hand from his arm to over his mouth. Giving his a sharp kick in the shins she then pulled him by the arm towards the exit.

As the two left the Restricted Section and headed out of the library, Ron turned to Hermione. "Did you get that girl's name?"

SECTION

"Well that was easy enough," Ruedella said as Severus opened the door to his office with just a few well-placed spells.

"Should be," Severus said, "the interesting wards are inside, as are the traps." He turned to her and grabbed her shoulder. "Touch nothing!" he warned sternly. "We will get what we need and get out."

"In time for breakfast?" Ruedella asked hopefully. She just sighed as Severus rolled her eyes and dragged her inside.

Severus quickly located a few items on the office shelf and mixed together a basic elixir. Adding one last slug to the bucket, he then sat down the bucket of large slimy slugs, held his nose and drank down the concoction. After he was finished, he took a deep breath and then burped loudly, producing a large green bubble that floated in the air and then popped.

"That was gross," Ruedella said, looking quite sick.

Severus simply shrugged his shoulders. Pulling a large glass jar off the shelf, he took off the top and put three of the slugs into it. "For future use," he said, "Waste not, want not." He looked at the bucket again and scratching his head, he smirked and grabbed another large jar and filled it too with slugs. "Professor Sprout refuses to grow a specific parasitic vine and instead is cultivating more Devil's Snare, which is easy to obtain. A few slugs to ruin the new patch of Devil's Snare and perhaps I can talk her into using the space for some more practical purposes." When he was finished, he caught the contents of the bucket on fire and quickly issued a charm to clear up the smoke.

"That's a practiced move," Ruedella said.

"When you had either Peter Pettigrew or Vincent Crabbe, Sr. as your constantly assigned potions partners, it was a necessity."

"Oh. Well then, now what?"

"I retrieve my notes from my desk and then obtain some supplies from my storage. Then, we find a quiet place for me to work." He walked over to his desk. "This part is relatively easy as it is mainly protected by an identity charm. Despite my outward appearance I am still who I always was. Now the storage area will be far more difficult." He stood off to the side and issued a few spells, the first two seemed to have worked, but the third caused the drawer he was working on to fly out of its place followed by several ice-blue spikes of energy that bounced harmlessly off the back wall. Nodding in satisfaction, Severus summoned over the drawer and dug through the contents pulling out a leather-bound notebook. Leafing through it, he marked a few pages and then returned to the drawer, pulling out another dog-eared book. Quickly moving to a nearby cupboard, he issued a few counter-spells and opened it up, and took out a dark black satchel. He returned to the drawer, satchel in hand and put the notes, book and the items Ruedella had in hand into it. He then picked up the drawer and replaced it into his desk.

As the two walked over to the door which led into the storeroom, they were interrupted by the sound of a shattering jar. They turned quickly to find Peeves floating in the doorway with a jar of beetle eyes in hand while eyeing up the shattered jar of dried Dragon Roses.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!" Severus yelled.

The poltergeist looked at the two and gave them a big smile. "Ohh… slimy Slytherins looking for Snivellus Snape? You'll be in big trouble breaking in – but I should thank you for letting me in… but I won't…" The poltergeist then swooped towards them; dropping more jars along the way. "Pfftt!!" he stuck his tongue out and spit toward them. "Breaking into Severely Snapped Snape's office and his storage room. Ohh… he'll break your wands and have you licking cauldrons clean." The poltergeist then leaned forward and winked. "However, if you let me in there, I won't tell…"

"No!" Severus barked.

"Oh well," Peeves replied and swooped towards the door, again breaking a few more jars along the way. "I saw Filch just down the hall and…"

Severus whipped out his wand and aimed a curse at the poltergeist. Peeves shrieked for just a split second and was then eerily silent. He floated head over heals, frozen, his ghostly arms and legs spread eagle and his face plastered with an expression of horror, like an grotesque translucent balloon.

Mortified, Ruedella backed into a shelf, spilling an odd-shaped blue vial. Severus grabbed her and pushed her to the door. "Silly fool…" he said as he grabbed her and they ran through the door past Peeves. "The fumes are poisonous. We'll return later…" Before he could finish, he heard Filch's voice yelling down the hall.

"Breaking into Professor Snape's office are ya?" the squib yelled as his footsteps echoed towards them. The two jumped and ran up the stairs, careful to avoid the trick step. As they neared the top, they heard Filch shriek, "What in bloody hell did you do to Peeves?" They didn't stop and continued into the main part of the castle.

"Do you think he saw us?" Ruedella asked as they stopped to rest. She grimaced as Severus nodded. The halls were starting to fill with students, mostly in casual clothes as it was a Saturday, and the voices chimed in excitement over the upcoming Quidditch game.

"There they are!" Filch's voice carried over the chatter and the hallway's din died to silence. Filch was flanked by several Slytherin prefects, all with their wands drawn. "Just take them down and I'll haul them off to Professor Snape," he said with a snaggled-tooth grin.

Severus and Ruedella bolted straight into the center of the crowd, hoping to lose the Prefects in the maze of students. A spell shot by Severus' head, causing him to jump. In a swift clean movement, he turned and issued a spell Ruedella never heard before, hitting the one Prefect, Draco Malfoy directly into the stomach and forcing him into a nearby wall. Ruedella turned and gasped as the young wizard did not bounce into the wall, but became part of it.

"Oh no you don't," another Prefect, this one a Ravenclaw, jumped out from behind a pillar. Severus aimed another spell, transfiguring the boy so that his arms were now where his legs were and vica-versa. The Prefect shrieked, not in pain, but in surprise.

"That will hold them," Severus said, nodding as the Prefects began to let off their chase to help their downed brethren. He grabbed Ruedella's arm and said, "I know where we can go, follow me…"

"No, I have a better idea," Ruedella replied, pulling away. She turned to go down another hall and motioned for Severus to follow. As she took a few steps, Ernie MacMillian, a Hufflepuff Prefect, stepped in front of them, his wand out.

"Don't try anything. I'm quite adept at Defense Against Dark Arts," Ernie pronounced with authority.

Severus laughed and replied, "Let's see…" He issued another spell and four brilliant white skulls, with sharpened fangs and breathed in fire, roared from the tip of his wand and flew towards MacMillian. Two broke off and began to chase other students, clearing a way for them to escape.

"What in Merlin's name!" Ruedella gasped and looked at Severus who was surveying the chaos caused by his spells with much satisfaction.

"You know where to go?" he asked. "We best make way while we can."

END CHAPTER

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	22. Deja Vu All Over Again

Author's Notes: HUGE apology for the MASSIVE delay. However, I have a pretty good reason – namely the birth of my son, Ian, on January 9th (yes, Severus Snape's birthday… go figure). So between trying to tie up things with work and the new arrival, I haven't had much time to dedicate to this story and I do apologize. (And, no, my husband refused to allow me to put Ian's middle name as Severus.)

I will TRY to wrap up this story by the time the next book comes out, but I don't know if I can. Thank you so much for your patience.

Chapter 22: Déjà Vu All Over Again…

Harry sat at the table in the Great Hall flipping distractedly through his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. His concentration was waning as his thoughts often wandered to the tightly folded piece of paper he was using as a bookmark. The parchment was a second clarification that Lestrange had provided him; the second install of a payment in return for the Patronous charm lessons.

The Patronous lessons were slow, mainly as Harry considered, because she was far more concerned at the moment in practicing Occlumency. Either she was truly concerned for his welfare, or she wanted the practice for herself – the later, Harry surmised, was more likely. He did have to admit that she had improved considerably as an Occlumens, as no matter how hard his effort, he could not pull out that one errant memory regarding she and his father in the tunnel. He wondered if the vision was something his own brain had created or it was a concoction of her barely-lucid moments late last fall. She was quite barking mad and perhaps the whole thing was simply the product of a very deluded and hysterical mind.

When they were tired of Occlumency, they would practice the Patronous charm. However, the best she could conjure was a small white cloud-like wisp that probably couldn't defend off a relatively harmless fire newt let alone a Dementor. Regardless of her lack of progress, and her lack of practice, she was surprisingly good to her word and did uphold her promise in time and without hesitation.

The only thing Harry had to produce in addition to the lessons was the right question to ask.

'This is not a free for all; I will not tell you the future nor will I reveal another's secret,' Harry remembered Lestrange telling him quite bluntly, her grey eyes narrowing as she conveyed her insistence. She allowed him some time, a few weeks actually, to ponder his question and the more he thought the more he began to wonder about a great many things. Questions that were long overdue and that perhaps he should be asking Dumbledore himself instead of Lestrange. The more Harry started to think the more he considered that perhaps this was all a bad idea and that he was simply using Lestrange to avoid hard questions that he should be asking others.

And the biggest of those questions had to do with his connection to Voldemort. Dumbledore did tell him of his mother's sacrifice, of how 'part' of Voldemort or at least some of Voldemort's abilities were transferred to him. But Harry had no idea, not a clue as to what in the world was Dumbledore referring when he said 'in essence divided'? But the one thing that really bothered Harry, which as he thought about it he should be relieved, was that Voldemort called off his Death Eaters and has, since Christmas, laid low.

Truth be said, Harry considered, was that as much he wanted answers, he was also quite afraid of what he would find out.

The Prophesy, Harry surmised, should have encouraged Voldemort to have him captured and then killed by Voldemort's own hand – or at least that's what his interpretation would have concluded. But he had simply received the prophesy from Dumbledore and never asked its meaning – he simply assumed that one of them would triumph as a result of one of them killing another and that no one else but each other could kill them. And, on the surface it certainly seemed to be the case. But Voldemort's reaction was quite the opposite; meaning that perhaps there was something he misunderstood. Dumbledore did say that the prophesy was now in Voldemort's hands, yet why the unusual and unexpected change in tactics?

Which only meant that again Dumbledore told him what he wanted him to know and that a larger meaning still eluded him.

Although he was tempted to simply storm into Dumbledore's office and demand answers, he knew – or at least felt – that he'd only be given some detailed response which would hold him quiet for a bit but when he thought about the response later he would realize that it provided little or conflicting information and that it only raised more questions. It wasn't that Dumbledore was lying, but protecting him. Harry tried hard to rationalize what was going on but he was no longer a child and this ongoing game of truthful omission was becoming quite tedious.

So, through this simple clarification he hoped to piece together more clues so that he would have the right questions to ask when he finally confronted Dumbledore. Between the prophesy, the clarification about him which Hermione had asked in her Ancient Runes class, and this clarification Lestrange prepared, Harry felt confident that he would have enough information to perhaps begin forming intelligent questions.

He closed his book and stretched, clearing the table for the plates and settings that would appear momentarily, signaling that breakfast was to begin. He woke up quite early this morning and met Hermione and Ron before their morning prefect duties telling them that he'd meet them for breakfast when they were done. His clarification wouldn't appear on the empty parchment until that evening; Lestrange wanted him to enjoy the Saturday without obsessing about it. He didn't know if she was simply being kind or was foreshadowing the contents.

"I would wager 5 galleons that Hufflepuff wins. Another 3 Galleons that the difference in scores will be exactly 90 points and two Galleons that Hufflepuff catches the snitch." Harry's train of thought was interrupted as he overheard Ginny Weasley talking to some Ravenclaws who were busy scrawling down information and depositing her money into a discreet small brown cloth sac. She produced another, larger pile of Galleons and laid it on the table, carefully making sure no teachers were about. "My brothers wish to triple my bet."

"We're capping bets at 3 Galleons," the one boy, whom Harry knew but could not recall the name at the moment, announced. Seeing Ginny nod in agreement, he returned the excess money and wrote down the bets. "2:1 odds on the winning; 7:1 on the point spread and 4:1 on the snitch. Ravenclaw is greatly favored you know."

"Not like she's lost all year," his companions, a boy whom Harry recognized as Knowles chimed in. "We don't let anyone see our books because we don't want them to copy your bets. Don't know how you do it but…"

"I shall not tell – and that includes my wagers," Ginny said with a smile, making a motion to seal her lips with her fingers. She continued smiling as the boys walked off.

Harry turned and looked at Ginny. "Don't tell me that…" He shook his head. "I saw on the train."

Ginny's face grew pale and she quickly stuttered. "Seriously Harry, everyone does it. Don't tell me you don't have a knut or two on…"

"The gifts on Christmas," Harry said. "I know you don't tutor that much. And besides foretelling the future is Dark Arts…" he warned.

Ginny scooted closer and hissed in his ear. "It is a defined event with defined parameters. It's not like I'm foretelling someone's death. Anyhow, I probably couldn't if I tried."

"Fred and George are behind this, aren't they?" Harry barked, his arms folded and he was looking quite authoritarian.

"I mentioned something about it and they, err… found interest," Ginny admitted. "But really, who is being harmed? It's not like I am using information to cheat people. Anyone could make the same bets…"

"But you know the outcomes!" Harry exclaimed. "Listen, this is a very dangerous…"

"Nonsense!" Ginny replied vehemently. "I have studied this quite thoroughly. You don't actually believe… after all I've been through that I would willingly…" She looked at Harry whose expression clearly conveyed that he still was not convinced. "Listen, certain areas of rune readings are perfectly fine. Clarifications, where someone asks a question about a situation to receive insight, is not Dark Arts…"

"We're talking about foretelling the future," Harry said nodding towards another table where the Ravenclaw bookies were taking more bets.

"Limited divination is considered to be acceptable," Ginny interrupted. "The Ministry Statues on Divination clearly state that any Rune Divinations can be done as long as it focuses on a very near-term event and specific outcomes, and that the information is not used to change events for personal gain. I'm just betting on the match; I don't intend on sabotaging the game so there's a different outcome. It's not really that well defined because, well, not many people can even do it. It's not like true seers who get prophecies that just pop in their heads. That's quite different because their accuracy is much higher. With Runes, most people who even have any talent often ask the wrong questions or mess up the translations. Now the areas that fall into Dark Arts…" she lowered her voice, "those are very open ended and divinations for the purpose of gaining information. Sometimes it's of past events or of personal secrets, other times it to ask about what will happen in the future – an event that you don't know will happen will be revealed. In addition, the ritual is quite morbid – blood offerings and using runes made of sacrificed human bone."

Harry still wasn't entirely convinced, although even he had to admit that he was being a bit of a hypocrite considering his deal with Lestrange. However, he considered, he was simply trying to warn Ginny so that she didn't end up being a tool and suffer the same fate as the Professor. "Fine, but keep it under wraps. You don't need the hassle of being a walking oracle and if the wrong people find out you'll be sold to the Goblins in a heartbeat."

Ginny smiled and touched Harry's arm. "I know that you're trying to help," she said, blushing slightly. As she was putting away her book, both she and Harry jumped as a loud echo of screams filtered through the doors from the corridor and into the Great Hall.

SECTION

The two young Slytherins raced through the castle, finally reaching the destination Ruedella had suggested. They quickly slipped into the room, and locked the door behind them. Panting, they leaned against the large wood door and listened intently as the pursuing footsteps rushed past and then proceeded down another hallway, the echo fading in the distance.

"You call that not trying to bring attention!" Ruedella nearly shouted, but was mindful to keep her voice as low as possible, yet still convey her anger.

"If it weren't for me, we would have been caught!" Severus replied, his black eyes flashing as he wiped his forehead. "I hope that annoying poltergeist floats out to sea! Blasted thing… ruined…" He stopped short as he surveyed the room. Volumes of books lined tall, neat dark wood shelves. In the center was a large table covered with various cauldrons, glassware and ingredients. On the far shelf were more ingredients, each jar and bottle more exotic than the next. "Wasn't this the…"

"The Dark Arts room in which you held your classes?" Ruedella finished. "Yes. Apparently the room is enchanted; provides whatever is necessary if you need it. We were lucky that it showed up." She stopped as her eyes lit on a smaller table with two setting and covered with breakfast food. She scurried down the small flight of stairs that led to the main floor and sat at the table, busily helping herself to some eggs and sausage. "Eat!" she said, motioning towards the table. "I don't know why, but I'm starving."

Severus snorted and sat. He reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice and frowned as Ruedella swiped hers up and held it close for protection. He helped himself to a few small portions of food and ate slowly as he surveyed the shelves of books. Seeing one that caught his attention, he raised his wand and levitated it over. Smiling, he flipped through the pages until he found an article of interest and began reading.

"_Discovery Potions and Uses…_" Ruedella read the spine of the book and then tilted her head so she could read the article upside-down. "_Unveiling Werewolves…_ a tasteless, odorless and nearly undetectable potions that can determine if a person is a werewolf or not. Simply slip into the drink of said creature in human form and the skin will immediately exhibit tell-tale purple and pink spots…" She looked at Severus as a puzzled expression crossed her face. "Why are you interested in that?"

"Pet theory," Severus said, casually closing the book after committing the items to memory.

"You think someone is a werewolf!" Ruedella cried out. "Who! I bet Hagrid!"

"Hagrid is a giant. Well, at least part," Severus corrected. "Now, do you remember why we are here?" he inquired.

"We were running from the Prefects," Ruedella began.

"And…" he said, motioning impatiently with his left hand.

"You forgot too!" she accused, pointing as he scowled. "A potion and Potter… turned us into children!" She said the last with an air of epiphany. "I suppose we should write this all down. Notes. Yes notes, so we can refer to them to help us remember…" She motioned for Severus to hand her the heavy black satchel. She quickly pulled out some paper, quill and ink and began to write. "At least we know our names. Now how old are we supposed to be…" She looked at Severus who was looking down thoughtfully and then to the wall, where a calendar hung. She got up and grabbed the calendar. "It's February 15th, 1997," she said. "So I am thirty-seven and you are…err.."

"Thirty nine." He said quickly. "We are professors here."

"Of what?" she asked.

"I do not know," Severus added, rubbing his head. "I could teach anything…" His voice dripped of arrogance.

"Right," Ruedella scowled. "Considering that you caught Professor McGonagall's dress on fire, gave Professor Flitwick purple hair when you tried singing charm in his class, and in Care of Magical Creatures caused the unicorns to stampede by your mere presence, I think we can rule you out as a Professor of those subjects. How about either Potions, D.A.D.A. or Herbology?"

Severus folded his arms and nodded. "Sirius Black caused my spell to misfire – that's how the dress caught on fire."

"Still," Ruedella said, looking up from the paper as she wrote, "It isn't exactly your strongest subject."

"Oh, as if you are good in anything!" Severus retorted. "You can't even…" He stopped his tirade and took a deep breath. "We must stop this… we must remember. When you were older… Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions and Charms. I could only say you were exceptionally weak in Transfiguration and Herbology. Still managed somehow to pass your OWLS… if I recall."

"Well, I doubt that I would teach Potions instead of you," Ruedella asserted. "So we can't exactly pinpoint what we teach… err… anything else."

"I know that I hold some important position. Deputy Headmaster, probably," Severus said with some confidence.

"Now you're just being arrogant," Ruedella replied sharply, rolling her eyes as she continued to write. "I'll just write down that you believe you have some other role here but don't know what it is."

The two discussed for some time, with Ruedella taking notes on any tidbits that they could remember. While they talked, Severus poured through the notes he had taken from the office and began to reference books. As he tossed a heavy book on the table with his left hand, his sleeve pulled back revealing his bare forearm. He stopped and made a double take at his arm, pulling the sleeve back further.

"What?" Ruedella asked, noticing his movements.

Severus responded by grabbing her left arm and pulling back her sleeve. Both of their forearms lay side by side, each displaying youthful, unmarked, bare skin. Severus' lips parted and he moved them slowly as he thought. "We are free," he said finally. "From the Dark Lord…" he looked at Ruedella. "Remember…?"

She shook her head affirmatively. "It is fading… the memory is fading… but it is still there." She took a quick look at the satchel, notes and books. "Maybe we should just… well…" she took a deep breath. "No one would be the wiser and we could just…"

"For the time," Severus said in a sad voice as his mind drew another conclusion. "Until we, or at least I, turn seventeen… again…"

"You think this our fate? Regardless…?" Ruedella inquired, her face ashen. "I was always told it was the choices…"

"It is who we are," Severus replied simply. "A second chance to make the very same mistakes but without the wisdom we have… and are losing quickly… now."

"Isn't there something you would change?" Ruedella said as she began to pull her arm away.

"One thing," Severus said, grabbing her arm back. He pulled the girl closer and stroked a finger down her cheek, following an errant tear. "Just one thing," he said with sadness.

SECTION

Students stampeded into the Great Hall, turning over tables and benches; the loud thuds and horrified screams ricocheted off the tall ceiling. Harry grabbed Ginny and they jumped out of the way just in time as their table became overrun with children scrambling to get away. Harry climbed on top of the next table to see what was causing the commotion, and as he did, he saw a gruesome enflamed skull screeching and flying toward him, emitting an unearthly scream as it tried to bite several students.

Harry pulled out his wand, and issued a simple, yet powerful, banishment spell. The skull shrieked as the bright yellow light engulfed the entity and dissolved it.

"Harry, your back!" Ginny's voice rang above the clatter. Harry turned just as two other skulls were just about to bear down on him. As he was about to issue the spell, he was knocked off balance as the table he was on rocked under the motion of the students. He fell backwards, his wand flying helplessly into the air, and landed on the floor with a hard thud, knocking out his breath. Disoriented for a moment he could only look on as the one skull dove for him to attack. Just as it opened its mouth to bite, Harry heard a thunderous voice fill the Great Hall and the skull faded in a harmless whip of smoke.

"What is THIS!" Dumbledore's voice filled the room. Harry could not tell if the wizard was angry or just as confused as the rest. Gingerly Harry grabbed his wand and then started to sit up; he smiled at Ginny who helped him.

"It was some sort of non-corporeal entity," Ernie Macmillian said meekly. He motioned to the other Prefects who had little success in controlling the stampede. "It was horrible, sir. I don't know the boy… a Slytherin… he and another… a girl… were running away… I swear, sir, he knew more curses than most of the seventh years." Ernie looked at the floor sheepishly. "A few of them I never heard the likes…"

Before he could finish, Argus Filch stumbled into the room. The squib's face was ashen white and he panted between words. "Headmaster… you must… see this…"

Dumbledore studied Macmillian for a second and then many of the other Prefects and then Filch in turn, his blue eyes glittering intently. He paused for a second; his head snapping back as a mischievous smile slowly crept across his face. Tilting his head slightly he addressed Filch. "Do you happen to know the name of the boy?"

"I dunno," Filch said truthfully. "I make it a point to know the names of all the students, the Slytherins in particular," the squib said as he rubbed his neck, thinking. "I know that I know him… so familiar… but…"

"Marvolo Borgin, Sir…" Hermione Granger blurted out as she stepped forward. "Ron and I ran into him and the girl this morning in the restricted section of the library… although we did not get her name…"

"Where are the Slytherin Prefects?" Dumbledore inquired.

"They're busy trying to extract Malfoy from the wall," Hermione said. "I sent Ron off to fetch Madame Pomfrey…"

"Oh it was a doozy of a curse, Headmaster," Filch chimed in with a snaggletooth grin. "Likes of which I have not seen since Karkaroff baited one of his students who knew a wee bit more than he expected." Filch, snapped his fingers, "Now who was that… Anyhow," he looked around the room, "Professor Snape is probably out looking for them… there's a couple of wands to be snapped in half and I suppose that I should have an elf begin packing…"

"That won't be necessary for now," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, simultaneously amused and concerned with the squib's enthusiasm. "The 'Borgin' boy," Dumbledore said as he turned to Hermione.

"Not meaning to interrupt, sir," Hermione said quickly, "but after our encounter in the library, I checked with Professor McGonagall and there is no Marvolo Borgin…"

The Great Hall filled with startled mumbles as the students and the handful of present faculty began to talk excitedly among themselves.

"I bet they're a couple of Death Eaters who are trying to infiltrate…" Ernie Macmillian blurted out but was silenced with Dumbledore's waving hand.

"Prefects, kindly escort the students to their dorms. Faculty, please scour the halls and send any students back to their dorms as well and then meet back here in an hour." Dumbledore made the announcement with a clear authoritative voice as he motioned to Professor McGonagall, who just entered the hall, to join him at his side.

"Shall I find Professor Snape?" Filch asked.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded his head agreeably. "Interesting that you should say that, Argus," he replied simply.

SECTION

"I think Ernie Macmillian is right," Ron said as he leaned next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. "I bet some Death Eaters drank some youth potion and came into Hogwarts to spy or otherwise cause havoc."

"And their first stop was the Restricted Section of the Library?" Harry retorted, his tone conveying that he was not entirely convinced.

"Well maybe Voldemort sent them here to look up something?" Hermione replied. "The library is quite extensive and the Restricted section has many volumes that you can't find elsewhere."

"Well, then why try to break into Snape's office then?" Harry replied with a frown on his face. "I mean, granted, Snape probably has a lot of exotic and rare ingredients and such, but probably nothing that couldn't be purchased in Diagon Alley."

"Or Knockturn Alley," Ron added with a laugh. "You have a point, Harry. If they were Death Eaters, they'd want to lie low until they got what they wanted. Snape probably didn't have anything that they couldn't get elsewhere and to risk their lives…"

"Unless Snape was hiding something!" Harry said, snapping his fingers.

"Are you into that 'Snape is not on our side' stuff again because, really, Harry, we discussed this at length before," Hermione snapped.

"No, you misunderstand me," Harry said. "Snape's office is very well protected. After the Gillyweed incident, I know he's upped the wards and protective spells considerably. Now, if I were a Death Eater and needed something in the library and…"

"No, wait…" Ron interrupted as he began to pace in front of the fireplace. "They'd only get one chance. Now… they apparently were not after you, Harry, as dressing up as Slytherins and blowing up Snape's office would not be the best way to get close to you. You see if I were they, I'd dress up as Gryffindors so I could weasel my way into the common room here. I'd also not try to blow up anything, so I don't think you were the target."

Harry looked at Ron, wide eyed. "I'm glad you're on my side, Ron…"

Ron paused, smiled for a second and then continued. "Now… they weren't spies either, because they would know better than to cause a commotion. So, they had to be here because of information. The library, where we first saw the greasy git and his companion and then Snape's office where they got in, stole some papers, tried to get into the back office, but Peeves caught them before he was petrified…"

"What did you say!" Harry jumped up and looked at Hermione.

"Stolen papers!" Hermione hissed. "How did you…"

"When I got Pomfrey," Ron said. "I overheard her talking to McGonagall. They managed to break into Snape's office and his one file cabinet and several drawers in his desk were opened. Protected by identity charms even and some other nasty stuff. They petrified Peeves before they did that mess in the hall…"

"No, the 'greasy gi…'" Harry began but stopped short as the door to the common room opened.

It was rare that the headmaster visited the common rooms of any House, Gryffindor included. His mere presence caused such an excitement that the students began chattering excitedly and others ran up the stairs to fetch those still in the dorms.

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed excitedly and waved to his friend as he approached. "Are you here to…" He stopped talking the moment he looked at Dumbledore who held him in the most unusual gaze.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said quietly. "I believe you have some items that may be of use to us…"

SECTION

Harry handed the silken robe to Dumbledore. "I hope this helps," he said positively. "Do you know who it is? Some are saying it's a Death Eater… but…"

"You don't believe that do you, Harry," Remus said before Dumbledore could.

"Well, I had not seen Snape and… well… erm…" Harry replied.

Dumbledore interrupted. "If you could kindly let us borrow a map. A certain one that was given to you by a certain set of Weasley twins that was constructed by a certain band of 'marauding' students." He smiled and looked at Bill Weasley and Remus Lupin in turn.

Harry fetched his satchel and dug into it for the map. He handed it over to Dumbledore and asked quite plainly. "What's going on, sir?"

"Well since you are helping and your intuition is on the right track," Dumbledore began, "I will trust you with certain… confidential… information. It appears that Professor Snape and Professor Lestrange had a bit of a mishap. I know he was working on a rather complicated elixir and perhaps miscalculated… although this is very much not like him. However, these things happen even to the best of us…"

"They turned younger… now they're posing as students?" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Really? Is it permanent?"

"We don't know, Harry," Dumbledore said truthfully. "It depends on what they did and how soon we can find them. Unfortunately, he and Lestrange broke into his office and managed to get his notes. The fortunate thing was that they were not hurt, which tells me that at least part of their adult conscience and some of their abilities are still intact."

"But the fact that he petrified Peeves and caused the disturbance in the halls when they tried to escape tells us that most of their mental facilities have reverted to a child-like state," Bill added. "We just don't know what we're dealing with."

"Well, I did warn him about Extract of Time," Dumbledore said absently while shaking his head. "In the meanwhile, Harry, I'd advise that you keep with the group when we excuse the students to see the Quidditch match. If he sees you, I believe it might not end well and although your skill is tremendous, Professor Snape even as an apparent third year should not be underestimated. And, thank you, Harry" he said as he began to turn away.

"Extract of Time?" Harry said slowly as he began to sweat. He looked down to the floor and cleared his throat.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me, Harry?" Dumbledore turned back to Harry, his voice low.

"Would it make a difference in a potion should one, say, mix up the ingredients of Extract of Time and, well, say…erm… Essence of Youth?"

END OF CHAPTER


	23. The Boy Who Should Not Have Lived

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and I appreciate everyone's input and comments. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

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**Chapter 23 – The Boy Who Should Not Have Lived**

As a mirror has two halves, the divided soul is a two-way portal into the other's mind. Turn the weapon inward using your own soul as a shield.

"That's it! That's all!" Harry shouted at the paper in anger and slammed his fist on the table. He lowered his head as those sitting in the common room looked at him. "So much for quick and easy answers…" he said solemnly under his breath.

"Harry," Hermione's concern-tinged voice called to him. He looked up and saw his friend approaching the edge of the table. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office… now…"

"Did they catch them?" Harry asked simply.

"During the match, I think," Hermione replied. She looked at Harry with concern. "Dumbledore is not very pleased with you… or Ron…"

"I know." Harry folded the paper and placed it in his pocket as he stood up. "Well, I suppose I should go…" he said with a heavy sigh and placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder as he walked by.

He walked the dark corridors his stomach churning with a sinking loneliness, as he never felt before. There were no excuses, no rationalizations nor any reason that he should have done what he did. "But if Snape hadn't been so intimidating…" Harry began under his breath but caught himself as a small voice in his mind said, "_But he told you to not touch anything…_"

Harry stopped and looked around, realizing that he stood in front of the large gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. Before he could say anything, the gargoyle moved revealing the spiral staircase.

He reached the top and with a deep breath walked into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk and Snape and Lestrange, fully restored to their familiar adult selves, were sitting off to his left each holding some odd foaming green potion while Professor McGonagall stood stiffly at Dumbledore's right her face contorted into a most unpleasant frown.

"I am glad that you two are all right Professors," Harry croaked.

"Spare us your self-serving concern, Potter," Snape said with venom. He turned his head towards Dumbledore and then to McGonagall in turn. "Let me guess. Since our condition was reversible and he donated the trinkets needed to find us, he'll simply get a few days detention…"

"Severus, please," Dumbledore said quietly. "His fate rests with his Head of House. You insisted on such with Malfoy and crew last year."

"However Malfoy did not turn two Professors…" Severus began.

"No, he betrayed Hogwarts and sided with a sociopath who nearly had me killed… among other things…" McGonagall interrupted brusquely conveying a tone that any student, and that included former ones such as Snape, knew not to challenge. She turned to Harry, "I spoke to Ron Weasley earlier and he will be suspended from Prefect duties until he can demonstrate that he can perform them without giving preference to his friends."

"But it wasn't Ron, it was me!" Harry protested. "I was the one who picked up the vials and accidentally mixed them up. He was too afraid to tell Professor Snape… as was I…"

"Please, Potter," Snape drawled dismissively, "I would expect such sniveling from Longbottom."

"Nonetheless, Mr. Potter," McGonagall continued, "He is suspended until further notice. I cannot have my Prefects overlooking the welfare of faculty and students at Hogwarts simply because it might get their friends in trouble."

"You are about twenty-five years too late on that brilliant revelation," Snape snapped.

"Should I require any advice on how to run my House, I shall ask. In the meanwhile, Severus, you might be well served in finding out whom in your House is a potential recruit for You-Know-Who," McGonagall replied tersely.

"Well what a wonderful idea! What shame it would bring to a Head of House to find out that one of their students is in league with the Dark Lord. Doubly so if they were to become his right-hand-man!" Severus spit with poisonous relish as he leaned back in his chair and casually took a few more sips of his potion as he watched McGonagall silently fume.

"I will assume, Severus, that you need to drink more potion before you are back to yourself again," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes steeled on his Potions Master.

"He seems fine to me," Lestrange piped in and then began to stand. "Perhaps I should be going. Pomfrey wanted me to stop by…"

"To check for germs because you bit a werewolf!" Snape snickered. "Really Ruedella, what a dunderhead thing to do…"

"If I would hold you accountable for your actions earlier given your states, Severus, then you and Harry would be equally in trouble. No," Dumbledore shook his head and then continued, "You even more so. Remus Lupin was quite aware that she wasn't herself and was trying to escape."

"No, that's the beauty of it… she was herself," Severus countered. "However, perhaps I, too, should be going as I am sure that you need to award Harry some special plaque or metal."

"I will take care of his punishment Severus!" McGonagall said with slow measure, her face red with rage.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said softly, waving his hand gently to calm her down. "Whatever you decide, I shall support. I will send Harry later for you two to discuss…"

"I WANT HIM OUT! I WANT HIM EXPELLED!" Snape screamed as he suddenly stood and threw his potion on the floor, smashing the glass everywhere. The room began to darken and the books and other items shook on the shelves. The portraits ducked in their frames, except for Phineus Nigelus, who leaned casually to one side snacking on Bertie Botts and apparently seeming to enjoy the spectacle. Snape pointed accusingly to McGonagall. "She's nothing more than a dotting old Auntie to the miserable boy! He breaks rules over and over and gets naught but a slap on the wrist! You are just as easy, if not easier, on him as you were with his Father!"

"DOTING OLD AUNTIE!" McGonagall huffed and reached for her wand. "I NEVER!"

"Minerva," Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair. "Perhaps you and Harry can speak tomorrow morning." He paused and looked on as the witch lowered her hands to her sides. "Severus, he did admit… voluntarily… his guilt and contributed to finding you. This was essential in finding you in a timely manner. Otherwise, I'm afraid the damage would have been permanent," Dumbledore countered.

"Well this is starting to sound familiar, like the time I was set up to see Lupin transform? Sirius and Potter concocted a situation so he could look like a hero. So is that where this is going? 'Potter did something regrettable but then made it all better…' Is that the Gryffindor secret of bravery?" Severus spat back.

"Severus," Ruedella said softly. "We have had a hard day…"

Snape turned fiercely and leaned into her, their noses nearly touching. "Sticking up for your 'study buddy' are you? Making excuses for someone who killed your own flesh and blood! You disloyal…"

Lestrange bared her teeth and slapped Snape across the face. "You are hardly one to lecture me about loyalty," she said, her voice cold and low.

Harry stood, petrified at the situation that unfolded around him. He looked to McGonagall, whose jaw was locked and rigid, apparently using all of her constitution to keep her anger under control. He then gazed at Dumbledore who stood at his desk, his thin aged fingers clutched into fists so tight that the knuckles protruded like white claws and his blue eyes took on a fierce hue, not unlike when he confronted Voldemort in the Ministry. Lastly, Harry looked at the couple. Lestrange's handprint was starting to fade off of Snape's cheek and the two stood, their teeth bared, glaring at one another.

Taking a breath he cleared his throat. "What I did was wrong. I was told not to touch the ingredients, but I was curious. Like I was curious with the pensieve and other things I have done over the years. I am very sorry, but I see that words are not enough. I need to start conducting myself better." Snape had turned his head and looked at Harry, his black eyes boring through Harry's soul like a sword. "You have done a lot for me Professor and I have been difficult and ungrateful. Professor Lestrange, I am also very sorry for how this hurt you. Although things did work out, they could just as easily have not." Harry then looked at Professor McGonagall, "Of course I will accept any punishment that you deem appropriate, but I do wish to state again, for whatever good it may do, that Ron…"

"Ron had a responsibility and that is all that I wish to hear on the matter," McGonagall clipped with final authority, her eyes not meeting him but rather still glaring at Snape.

"That will be all for tonight," Dumbledore said exhaling.

"That will not be ALL!" Snape turned to Dumbledore. "I want to know why! Why you gave Potter that special award!"

"This is the crux of your issue, isn't it, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired, his voice firm, but kind. "You tormented each other, yet that incident is the one that you cannot forgive isn't it?" Seeing Snape give a simple nod, he continued, "If you learned everything do you think that you can begin to mend?" He then looked to Harry. "Perhaps we need to do this. You two need to work together and I was hoping…" The old wizard trailed off. "Anyhow… it appears that the incident poisoned you towards even Harry and your actions towards him created and fueled his disregard for you." He looked to Lestrange who had managed to sit down and who was looking rather ill. Dumbledore's eyes then panned to Harry. "I also understand that perhaps you are not satisfied with a few things and you too are looking for answers… more answers. I think that we should get everything out…" He looked directly to Lestrange. "And I mean everything out…"

"But sir," Lestrange said weakly. "You promised…"

"What is revealed here will stay here, Ruedella," Dumbledore said, looking upon her kindly. "You know this must be done."

"What does SHE have to do with this?" Snape bellowed, motioning towards his companion.

Dumbledore did not answer at first, but simply took a parchment and a quill and wrote a short note and handed it to McGonagall. "Remus is probably in the kitchen getting some food. Please send him here straight away." He then set down the quill and looked at Lestrange and then to Snape. "Everything, Severus, everything…"

SECTION

The five wizards sat in a small room around a circular table. In the center was the familiar white and rune-laden pensieve that belonged to Dumbledore. Harry looked at each wizard in turn. Dumbledore looked resigned, Remus appeared to be nervous, Lestrange appeared to be quite ill and Snape looked smug and almost in Harry's eyes, appeared to be vindicated. Harry wasn't sure what expression, or lack thereof, adorned his face, but given the knot in his stomach he knew that at least he was both scared and excited.

Dumbledore pulled out the parchment that contained Hermione's clarification practice and sat it on the table beside the pensieve. "I know, Harry," he began, "that you have many questions. However, I think this will serve in providing some context. Next time, however…" He paused and panned his eyes briefly to Lestrange who didn't seem to notice as she was staring at the pensieve intently and appeared to be quite terrified. "Next time, please approach me first for answers."

All Harry could do was nod and looked over to Remus for support.

Taking out his wand, Dumbledore tapped the pensieve. Soon a memory filled the room, making it appear that they were now standing in hall corridor of a dungeon.

"Is your memory, Severus?" Remus asked.

"No, it is mine," Lestrange unexpectedly replied for Dumbledore, her voice trembling.

Harry turned away from the adults and looked down the corridor. Like in the other pensieve memories they could not be heard or seen, but rather were viewing the memory much like Muggle television, except they were standing in the scene. He could see two boys approaching, both about his age. One he recognized instantly as Snape and the other was a shorter boy with moppy brown hair and grey eyes – the same boy, Harry surmised, that the Boggart had impersonated with Lestrange.

"So what's this all about, Snape?" the other boy asked. "If we go any further, we'll be under the lake." He stepped into a large puddle. "On second thought we probably are."

The young Snape turned and faced his companion. Looking down the hall he frowned and then shook his head. "I wanted to make sure your nosey sister was not following. I think we lost her, although she does know these halls well…" He trailed off and stared at a part of the corridor wall for a few moments, apparently concentrating. Shaking his head he then turned back to his partner.

"Taking her down here a lot to snog, were you?" Rabastan Lestrange chided. "Ow… hey…" He rubbed his arm where Snape inflicted a stinging hex. "You did that without a wand…brilliant…!"

"You certainly give me enough practice," Snape said coolly. "Do you want in or what?"

"What's in it for me?" Lestrange asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps a special service award," Snape replied. He lowered his voice. "I suspect that Hogwarts is in great danger. Dumbledore is harboring something quite dangerous and it is up to me to prove it. However, I need a witness and a lookout. I need you to follow me tonight. Meet me at the East Gate in an hour."

"Dumbledore could be sacked… and the new Headmaster… probably Karkaroff… would be in our debt!" Lestrange rubbed his hands greedily. "Tell me what it is!" the boy requested excitedly.

"So you can cut me out? I do not think so," young Snape snorted. "Either follow me and accept what I will generously provide or I shall go alone and then I alone will receive the accolades."

"You're going to hog most of them anyhow," Lestrange said glumly.

"Do you want a little of something or all of nothing?" Snape snapped. "East Gate. One hour," he said, poking his long index finger into the boy's bony shoulder. He then turned and fled down the corridor, Lestrange in pursuit.

Now Harry would have expected the scene to end there, except he saw a slight movement. He squinted his eyes and peered at the dungeon wall, which looked like it was moving. Then, slowly the stone took shape and there stood a girl with big bushy hair whom he recognized as a younger Professor Lestrange.

"A concealing charm," Professor Snape said. "And how exactly did you learn that?" He turned to Professor Lestrange his hands on his thin hips.

"It's called a library," the Professor quipped back, "in books filed under 'useless wand waving.'"

"But wait…" Snape tapped his chin. "You could not have been there because we saw you immediately thereafter in the common rooms – you and Regulus Black were about to sneak off and do something, I was quite sure -- and there is no way that you could have passed us…"

"Enough, you two," Dumbledore warned and they watched as the scene changed once again.

This time they were outside on a dark path that led to the area that contained the Whomping Willow. Harry could see young Snape, followed by Rabastan Lestrange, leading the way while Ruedella Lestrange followed them at a distance, careful not to be seen.

"This isn't right!" Professor Snape declared. "Rabastan Lestrange never met me! He claimed that he got locked in Filch's storage closet by Peeves!" He looked at Ruedella Lestrange who was now shaking. "Now what's wrong with you now!"

"Shh…" Dumbledore warned and they picked up their pace so they could follow the students.

"Get back!" young Snape hissed to his companion and the two dodged into some nearby bushes. He whispered to Rabastan. "Pomfrey should be by any minute. She leads him here every month about this time… about a half-hour before the full moon. Now she should be coming up the path and we should let her pass. After she's out of sight, we'll head to the Whomping Willow and I'll immobilize it, go into the tunnel underneath the tree and take a quick photograph…" He reached into his cloak and produced a small camera.

"Oh… one of those instant deals!" Rabastan said. "Rodolphus used to have one, but shook the pictures so hard that the wizards in the photos got sick and puked all over the place. Like when Rosier and Nott had the chocolate frog-eating contest on the Hogwarts Express our second year and they spewed all over the compartment glass. Remember?"

"Thank you for sharing," young Snape replied curtly, looking at Rabastan with disgust. "Now, here she comes… shh…"

Harry could see a younger Madame Pomfrey make her way up the path and back towards the castle. He also spied a rustling of the bushes further back, which he assumed was the young Ruedella Lestrange hiding. After Pomfrey passed and was nearly at the castle, the group looked on as young Snape and Lestrange made their way to the Whomping Willow.

A few meters away from the trunk, Snape held up his arm and motioned for his companion to stop. He reached into his cloak and produced a medium sized balloon that was filled with liquid. Taking out his wand, he tapped the balloon gently and called out a spell that Harry recognized as a reversal to an anti-breaking charm. Then he threw the balloon against the tree, smashing the balloon and releasing a frothing liquid that coated the bark. In a few seconds the tree stopped moving and froze completely, save for the movement of the springtime wind.

"Now stay here and look up the path," Snape instructed Rabastan. "If you see anyone coming, yell down the tunnel." He pointed up to the ridge. "In the moonlight you can see someone approach way before they can see you." He looked to the sky and noticed the moon was just beginning to peak over the mountain. "Perfect. Now the potion should provide ample time, hours if we need-- and we will if I am to show Karkaroff the photograph and bring him here to see for himself." Severus glared at Rabastan. "Now remember, if you want to be my right-hand when I am Head Boy, then keep your eyes on the ridge. Understand?"

Rabastan nodded and quickly turned his back to Snape who looked at the boy with a rather curious expression, as if he were trying to read something but couldn't. Shrugging his shoulders, he made his way to the tunnel, his thin frame easily sliding down the opening.

After a few minutes, Rabastan looked around and down the tunnel. Taking out a small camera he proceeded down the passage.

"Now this is not right at all!" Snape kicked the dirt underneath his boot. "Lestrange was never with me and Potter stopped me before I could get very far down the tunnel."

"Well maybe this one goes to 'plan' and you've traded me in for a Head Boy badge," Lupin chimed in, uncharacteristically sarcastic.

"I maintained then as I do now that a werewolf in the midst of underage and untrained wizards is a very dangerous thing," Snape huffed. "Watch…" he said, motioning to the young Ruedella Lestrange who was watching the Willow intently and then suddenly ran into the tunnel, following the boys.

"We must keep up with her," Dumbledore said quickly, interrupting.

The group proceeded to the Willow and down into the tunnel, picking up their pace to keep up with the students. Suddenly, in the not too far distance, they heard howls and a fierce roar.

"I must be…" Lupin began, but before he could finish, the tunnel echoed with screams and tearing of flesh.

They ran further down the tunnel and rounded a corner. Ahead stood Ruedella Lestrange, her mouth open like she was screaming, but no sound came forth. Further down the tunnel were her brother and younger Snape, the latter with his wand up and calling out curses while the former lay in a puddle of his own blood, his throat ripped out. The werewolf/Lupin lunged at Snape and knocked the wand out of his hand and then bit his chest, ripping out a large chunk and spitting it out to the side and hitting Rudella's feet with a bloody pile of flesh and shredded clothing. In a second, Snape was down, apparently dead and Lupin then slowly turned to the girl, his muzzle dripping with blood.

In a quick motion, the girl stooped down and picked up the shredded cloth that bore a bloodied Slytherin emblem. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the werewolf, shrieking a few odd defensive spells that did little other than to annoy the creature. Just as Lupin was about to lunge, a boy ran up and pushed Lestrange out of the way.

"Dad!" Harry yelled, but of course the memory could neither see nor hear him.

"Run!" James Potter yelled at the Slytherin girl who was frozen in pure terror. He turned back to the werewolf. "Remus… you…" and before he could say another word, the werewolf snapped its jaws and bit him on the upper arm.

Shrieking, Lestrange turn and began to run. She stopped and looked back one last time to see a stag with a bloodied leg holding back the werewolf so she could make her escape.

As the memory faded, along with the surrounding scene and the sounds of the growls and slashing hooves, Harry closed his eyes, trying to absorb all that he saw, his mind racing, his heart pounding. He was about to ask if it were indeed real, when he heard Lestrange sobbing.

SECTION

The five stood in the small room, the pensive sitting serenely in the center. Lestrange walked over to a chair and sat. Taking a few deep breaths she looked to Dumbledore who nodded for her to continue.

"I ran out as fast as I could," she said softly as she lowered her head and stared at the floor.

"I do not understand this! This is made-up! This is **_not_** real!" Snape insisted. "And, real or not, I was never pleased that you took to shadowing me. You were lucky that I tolerated it…"

"It is real, Severus!" Lestrange said, her throat tight. "I shadowed you…because…" She looked to Dumbledore.

"Tell him, Ruedella," the older wizard said with a sad resignation.

"I was doing a divination… playing with the runes. Silly girl things, really… as I had a bit of a crush on you," Lestrange stated, her eyes on Snape. "I asked something along the lines of about our future and I got a rather odd answer. First, that you would be dead soon and second that you would 'return' before our first child was born." She looked at Snape whose face was even more pallid than normal. "It didn't make sense, so I rephrased the question and found out that you would die under the willow." She cleared her throat and conjured a glass of water, which her shaking hands tried desperately to grip. "I then took to following you…"

"Karkaroff knew…" Snape said with suspicion.

"When he discovered Rabastan's betting pool, he pressed me to tell him everything," she replied. "I told him that I predicted a death but was uncertain whom."

"Well, that might have helped to prevent this had you told him everything!" Snape growled.

Ignoring him, she continued. "I knew what was going on because I was eavesdropping when Sirius Black goaded you, Severus, into going to the Whomping Willow. When I heard that… Whomping Willow… I knew that was it! I followed you and Rabastan into the dungeons and when I found out that you were indeed going there, I rushed to find Sirius Black."

"He didn't listen, though, and found the whole thing amusing." Lestrange dabbed her eyes. "I found Pettigrew and gave him a note to give to Potter – I forged it to make it look like it was from Lily Evans. In it I said to for him to 'meet' Lily at the Whomping Willow. Everyone knew Potter had eyes for Lily Evans – ALL the boys had eyes for Lily Evans – she looked accusingly at Remus and Snape in turn. I figured that Potter would be there to meet Lily and by his presence, you, Severus, wouldn't go near the Willow and be spared. However, that rat, Pettrigrew, apparently took his time in giving the note to Potter and I suspect, given what I noticed later, that Potter was late because he was so arrogant that he wanted to make Lily 'wait.'"

"Once I escaped, I tried to collect myself, but wasn't very successful. I snuck back to the girl's dorms and broke into Circe Llewellyn's dresser and took a few of her calming potions – she was such a twitty nervous sort I figured she had a stash of them simply to make it through Karkaroff's classes." She raised her head and looked at the wizards. "Once I got my head together, I remembered something Quirrell had said, about seeing Barty Crouch at the top of the stairs and then in the hallway… he was also taking some electives that occurred during the same time period – it was then that I concluded he must have had a time turner."

She continued, "I went to the library to find Barty. I told him that Regulus had obtained some Firewhisky and wanted us to meet him. He followed me to a remote location in the dungeons where I stunned and body-bound him. I then found his time-turner…"

"And you used it to change…" Harry said softly, but then stopped. "But, Professor Dumbledore…" he began and cleared his throat at the adults simply looked at him. "If she used the time turner, wouldn't she have somehow appeared in her first memory? Like when Hermione and I saved Sirius, I performed the Patronous charm that dispelled the Dementors – I had always been there…" Harry stopped and gasped, putting a hand over his mouth as Snape's and Remus' mouths simultaneously dropped.

"Please continue, Ruedella," Dumbledore said after nodding an acknowledgement to Harry.

"Once I had it in my hands, I knew I had all the time in the world," Lestrange said, biting her tongue. "My first plan was to stop my brother. So I went back about three hours to when Severus and Rabastan were talking in the dungeons. I had a suspicion that you knew I was there, Severus, so I made sure I was in the common rooms when you two were finished with your conversation. I was talking to Regulus about playing a trick on Rabastan. Regulus was pretty agreeable and we concocted a story that sort of paralleled your story, Severus, that Regulus was also 'in' on the plan and had 'just been told' by you that they needed something out of Flitch's supply closet. Regulus lured Rabastan, took his wand, and locked him in the closet."

"While Regulus was doing that, I ran to Potter and told him what Sirius had done. I told him that in a few minutes he would receive a note from Lily, but it was actually a plan by me to get him to stop Severus. He did a jelly leg hex on me and I fell down a number of times – breaking the time turner – he relented when I told him about Pomfrey and Lupin and that if he didn't go there right now, I'd go straight to the Daily Prophet. When Pettigrew showed up a few minutes later with the note, Potter ran off and was able to grab Severus before anything could happen."

Severus and Remus simply stared at Lestrange for a number of very long moments. Eventually, Remus spoke, "Why Potter?"

"Well… because he was there the first time," Ruedella said. "When I approached Sirius Black the first time, it was because I wanted him to right a wrong…"

"Ruedella, that is not the entire truth, is it?" Dumbledore inquired.

She looked at the floor. "I thought that if I kept it to Black and Potter, those who knew what was going on with Lupin, that I would have leverage to blackmail them later. It was only when I threatened to expose him," she pointed to Lupin, "that Potter ran off hoping to do damage control."

"Fascinating story," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. It was apparent to all that he did not want to believe it; and Remus, who was visibly shaking, looked to Snape hopefully to see if the Slytherin could reveal the real truth. "According to all records of time turning, including the interesting revelation Mr. Potter here shared with us…" He glared at Harry. "… Your series of events are not believable. You should not have two different recollections of events, but one set of events which your time-displaced self helped to alter."

"Not entirely true, Severus," Dumbledore said. "She was wise enough to not be seen being in two different places at once – well, at least by the same person. Her time displacement was considered to be a 'inside loop.' What occurred, at least in our plane of time, should not have happened." He reached into his robes and pulled out a cloth bag. "I shared you skepticism, Severus, when I first heard this… not long after you and Karkaroff stormed into my office."

"Flitwick was in the office… with Crouch…" Snape said softly and then grabbed a chair and sat down.

"Professor Flitwick was informing me that Barty Crouch's time turner had been stolen. Of course, the discussion ended the moment that you two entered, given that having a time turner in one's possession was a confidential matter," Dumbledore elaborated. "I interviewed everyone in turn. James Potter, of course, told me that Sirius Black had told him what he had done. Barty Crouch told me that Ruedella Lestrange knocked him out and stole his time turner. Yet, during the same time she was supposed to be 'stealing' the time turner, she was also spotted in the Slytherin girl's dorm. When Peter Pettigrew let it slip about seeing Ruedella talking with James Potter – and knowing that the two of your didn't exactly run in the same circles – I knew something was up." He opened the sack. "Obviously, Ruedella was not holding herself well as the calming potions wore off. She told me everything, which was unbelievable until she handed me these items." He pulled out a bloodied Slytherin crest, a battered camera and, lastly, a shattered time turner. Turning the camera to the side he held it up. "Property of Severus Snape," Dumbledore read the inscribed label.

"I thought that I would be expelled," Ruedella said.

"You did the wrong thing for the right reasons," Dumbledore replied. "So, Severus." He turned to his Potions Master. "I was faced with a dilemma. I had one student who predicted a death and told her Head of House, who did nothing, including not telling me – although he did have ample evidence that she did have some 'talents.' I had another student goad a second into a dangerous situation…"

"In short, had she not stolen the Time Turner, Severus and Rabastan Lestrange would have been dead, James Potter, and possibly even Ruedella herself, a werewolf or dead, I more than likely would have been destroyed, Sirius Black expelled and probably sentenced to Azkaban and you would have probably been sacked," Remus concluded.

Dumbledore nodded tiredly. "I had two choices. The first choice was to accept the series of events as they played out with Ruedella's intervention the second was to report what occurred. If I reported what happened, then the Ministry would have to try to 'right' the timeline – in good conscience I could not do that. All said, I very well could not punish Ruedella for something I had done myself; it would be rather hypocritical…"

"Is this where Hermione's clarification ties in?" Harry asked softly, trying to speak around the lump in his throat. Snape didn't even look at him, but continued to stare at the crest, camera and time turner.

"In a way, yes," Dumbledore replied. He patted Remus Lupin on the shoulder. "Remus," he said, trying to get the wizard from his shock-induced near trance. Waving his hand in front if Remus' face, he was finally able to get Remus' attention away from the items that lay on the table. "Summon Dobby and tell him to situate you in one of the guest chambers. I trust that perhaps you will not be up for even a short trip to Hogsmeade this evening?" Seeing Remus simply nod, he again offered a supporting pat and watched as the wizard exited the room.

Once Remus had left, Dumbledore sat down and unrolled the parchment. "Quite an interesting piece of work, Ruedella. Now if I recall correctly, Miss Granger wrote down a name and folded the paper. You then cast silver and gold runes based on what she wrote, but sight unseen?"

"Yes, sir," Lestrange said simply. "Could you put… put those away?" she pointed to the items still on the table.

"Of course," Dumbledore said and waved his hand with a flourish and they faded away.

"Before we traipse into talking about Potter," Snape said, his voice nearly a whisper, "Perhaps you could still explain why Potter Senior received the award?"

"It was not for saving you," Dumbledore said. He started into Snape's eyes as the Potions Master's face showed a hint of confusion. "Pulling you away from a tunnel was hardly a feat worthy of such an award. Rather, I awarded it because he put himself in danger in trying to save Ruedella." Dumbledore shook his head. "In hindsight, perhaps I should not have, as it obviously raised more questions and created more problems than I anticipated. I made a grave misjudgment… a mistake… Severus, and I am sorry."

Harry half expected Snape to gloat over this, but the Potion Master simply averted his eyes and looked to the floor, apparently still quite troubled.

"Well, yes…" the Headmaster said with a soft cluck in his chin. "Back to this," he announced, holding up the parchment. "And, Harry, what did Miss Granger tell you?"

"That it wasn't about me," Harry said, "but I don't believe her."

"Why not?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well…" Harry huffed, "I think she is trying to protect me… spare my feelings… I don't need that!"

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "Would it help if I told you the real truth… that she was not lying to you or trying to 'protect' you? That… in fact… this has nothing, really, to do with you?"

"How do you know that?" Harry asked.

"I asked her. In fact, it is about Professor Snape, not you…" Dumbledore replied. "Ah, Severus. I see that your interest has returned…" He put the paper on the table and began. "Amazing number of similarities. Just amazing. Except, Harry, I count that you 'escaped' death three times – and technically, I suppose, that if the original timeline took place regarding the Whomping Willow incident your father would have either been dead or a werewolf – both making it unlikely that you would have existed at all. Logically, therefore, even without Miss Granger revealing the information, the clarification could not be about you."

Snape snatched up the parchment and read. "Aside from perhaps a few incidents involving the Dark Lord, I count the 'werewolf incident' as only one. It says here, plainly, that whomever this piece of rubbish is about, died twice."

"The first time, Severus, was when you were still in your mother's womb," Dumbledore said.

"You were the one who found my mother after the attack. But we were quite alive!" Severus exclaimed.

Dumbledore sighed. "As I said, I very well could not blame Ruedella for something I had done before. The first time I discovered her, she, and of course by proxy, you, were quite dead. It was by fortunate chance that I was both on the Committee which was reviewing the regulations surrounding the Time Turner and doing additional research on the properties of dragon blood that I had a time turner in my possession. I could not tell accurately when the attack occurred, so I did my best and went back two hours – enough to catch the vampire in act and dispel him, but not enough to prevent the bite. And, although I did seriously consider it, I did not dare to try to go back a second time."

"So it is my very existence, the fact that I survived…" Severus began but his voice simply faded out as he began to mentally calculate the implications.

"We can only speculate, but chances are that Lily and James Potter would be alive today and the Longbottoms sane and well… and your brother…" Dumbledore said the last softly, studying Snape with interest.

"But Sirius…" Harry began but stopped as Dumbledore raised his hand. There was a long silence and then Dumbledore cleared his throat, disappointment crossing his face for just a fleeting moment. Harry remained seated as the two Professors silently rose from their chairs and left the room. When they were out of site, Harry turned to Dumbledore and said simply, "Regulus… he killed his own brother?"

"Not the hunter, but more than likely the hound," Dumbledore said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How can you trust him?" Harry said simply. "I know that you do, but I don't understand how? There's just so much I do not understand…" Harry lamented and then turned again to the stairs.

"I have made many mistakes in my life," Dumbledore said distantly. "Perhaps it is time that I review what I know, what I have learned, and most importantly, what I have assumed…"

END OF CHAPTER

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